Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Remembering Sister Ramona With Love and Gratitude

                                                                     

A day never passed without my thinking of her. So when the message flashed on my cell phone this morning from my high school's alumnae office, it was a shock, but not a surprise.

The message stated simply that Sister Ramona, class of 1952, and long time teacher and principal at Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy had passed away this morning.

She had looked frail at my 50th high school reunion three years ago but, when I asked her quietly about her health, she shrugged and smiled. "I'm just getting on in years, that's all," she said.

When I flew to the Dominican Sisters' Motherhouse in San Jose, CA last May for her 60th Jubilee -- the anniversary of her first vows as a nun -- she looked ill. I could feel every bone in her back when we hugged. But she shrugged again when I asked "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, fine enough," she said. "You know, I'd love it if you'd come back when there are no crowds, just us. A couple of days together. You could stay here at the convent. How often do you get such an offer?" She smiled.

"I'd love that, too, and I'll just plan on it," I said.

Her reply was unusually sharp: "WHEN???" she asked.

I mentally paged through my work calendar and other commitments and came up with sometime in the Fall.

She nodded, satisfied. I stood there smiling at her, but worried. Was there unusual urgency in her voice? Was she going to be leaving this life sooner rather than later?

My mind rebelled at the thought, unable to imagine the world and my life without her.

Sister Ramona Bascom was a legend -- as a teacher, a principal and, later on, a counselor. She touched and changed the lives of generations of adolescent girls, college students and, really, anyone she happened to meet.

                                     
Delighting current students - April 2013


                                                       
Everyone who knew and loved her has a story about how she made a difference in their lives.

This is mine.

                                                     

She came joyously into my life -- and back to her alma mater for the first time as a teacher -- in the Fall of 1962. She taught, among other things, journalism. I was a senior, the editor of the school newspaper and planning a college major in journalism. But it wasn't really journalism that brought us together. It was my need for a confidante and her wonderful ability to listen without judgment.

I'll never forget a day that fall when I finally told her the tightly held secrets of my troubled home life. Just as the words -- and my tears -- were spilling, the bell rang for the nuns' afternoon prayers. She didn't move. Her eyes met mine. "Go ahead," she said. "I'm listening..." And when I had finished telling her my story, feeling anew the shame and fear, she embraced me. "I know it hurts," she said. "But what you've just told me is painful but not unusual. A lot of people experience similar things..."

My heart suddenly lightened. I looked up at her, relieved that she wasn't shocked, disgusted, judging.

"Really???" I said. "You mean other families are like this, too? That's such a relief to hear!"

And we talked into the early evening, my shame vanishing in her warm acceptance, my spirit brightened by the fact that she cared so much, cared enough to skip prayers to stay with me.

Some months later, when, to my great dismay, my parents forgot my 18th birthday, Sister Ramona didn't. I arrived at school to find a treasure hunt map stuck in the door of my locker -- and spent the whole day between classes hunting up funny little cards, drawings, holy cards and candy. How did she know how much I needed someone to remember and celebrate with me?

                                             
Every day was a celebration

Sister Ramona always put people, treasured relationships, first over prayers or dogma or her own cherished beliefs.

I felt loved and accepted at every point in my life.

On my graduation day, she gave me a letter telling me how much I meant to her and outlining all of my positive qualities that she particularly noticed and valued. I have treasured that letter for 53 years -- bringing it out to read again when faced with self-doubt or disappointment, depression or simple nostalgia. The last time I read it, Sister Ramona and I sat quietly and read it together during my 50th high school reunion. She handed it back to me, tears in her eyes. "I'd say exactly the same things today," she said, embracing me.

                                                   
At my 50th Reunion in April 2013

But there were times when I must have been harder to accept than others.

When I was a junior at Northwestern University -- having enjoyed a lively correspondence with her throughout my college years -- I began to have the crisis of faith that would lead to my stepping away from the Catholic Church. I sent her long, angry, introspective letters about it. She finally sent me a letter that said "I understand that this is all difficult and quite life-changing for you and I'm glad you feel you can write to me about it. But I miss hearing about the rest of your life. What's the scoop on your love life? Are you dating anyone special? Tell me more about your new roommate...Oh, and are you taking any more writing classes with the incredible Elizabeth Swayne?" I smiled, relieved, knowing that wherever my crisis of faith took me, Sister Ramona would be there.

                                                       
Dinner in our "den of sin" in 1976

When I was "living in sin" with Bob, whom I would marry a year later, she came to our apartment for dinner, shocking and delighting Bob, a non-Catholic who had never met a nun before, with her non-chalance and her salty sense of humor.

And even though we were not married in the Catholic Church, she was there at the wedding, happy for us, and cheering up my mother who was not, at that time, particularly jubilant about the marriage.

                                         
Cheering up my mom - May 1977

When my parents died four months apart in 1980, she suddenly, as if by magic, appeared at both funerals and graveside services, knowing better than anyone there except for my siblings how complicated and deep our journey through grief would be.

She was there to cheer me on, encourage me and celebrate my successes as a writer and there to comfort me in times of doubt and disappointment. She was supportive of my decision to return to graduate school in my forties to train as a psychotherapist -- something she had also done.

She accomplished so much in her professional life -- as a teacher, a principal and a savior of troubled schools.

After teaming with her dear friend and colleague, Sister Katherine Jean, another 1950's era graduate, to literally save our high school when it faltered financially in the early 1970's, she was instrumental in turning it around, making it an academic powerhouse and the continuing success it is today. After years of saving other schools on the brink of closing -- from affluent prep schools like Flintridge to troubled, cash-strapped inner city schools -- she moved north and spent the last decade of her life working happily in two positions at Stanford University: as a counselor for students and as a member of the Human Subjects Committee, supporting research at Stanford Medical Center. To the end, she was happy, engaged, making a difference.

                                                         
A joyous spirit, radiating love

One of the greatest accolades I ever heard about Sister Ramona came from my fervently atheist husband Bob.

Asked at a social gathering to name the most successful person he had ever met, he answered immediately: "Sister Ramona! She's smart, successful at her work, and so compassionate, so kind, and really, really funny! She is the finest human being I have ever known. There is no one like her!"

No one. She's irreplaceable. Inimitable. Incredibly precious to so many who had a good fortune to know her. She was direct, sometimes blunt, tough when she needed to be. But, more often, she would laugh -- when things were going well and even when they weren't. She never lost perspective and had some interesting insights.

A few years ago, I was having dinner with her and we were discussing a classmate of mine whose childhood was troubled, but whose adult life has been even more difficult and sad. "When I think of your backgrounds, I think yours was so much worse," she said. "But then it hit me: as crazy as your home life was, your parents really loved you. Every school play you were in, every parent-teacher conference, they were there, so proud of you, loving you so much..."

And I felt such gratitude for this wonderful gift of insight into my past so many years later.

                                                               
Blowing kisses at her Jubilee - May 2015

There were so many special gifts of love and grace, so many valuable lessons in living she taught me  through the years. When I heard of her passing, I was filled with gratitude that I was blessed to know this wonderful, one-of-a-kind woman. And I felt a rush of sudden regret that I didn't always follow her example of putting people first.

We never did get to enjoy that convent sleepover. When Fall came, I was busy working on a difficult update of "The Teenage Body Book" slated for publication this summer.

 "Sometime in the winter, perhaps," I said, making a plane reservation for late March, then canceling when it sounded like the timing was inconvenient for her. I had no idea, until today, how inconvenient it was.

Why did I think that, against all visual evidence, she would go on forever?

Even in death, Sister Ramona continues to teach me valuable lessons.


11 comments:

  1. What a wonderful tribute to Sr. Ramona. Such an outstanding person in all that she did. I had no idea that she had done so much for you. You have been truly blessed with the nuns in your life. God bless them. Sr. Ramona is now is a much better place. Her work is done but will endure through those she helped.

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  2. Kathy,I know how much she means to you. You were lucky to have had such a person around for so many years. And that, btw, is not usually the case in these times. This post is pushing me to write some thank you notes to people who might not last too long.
    ,

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  3. What a wonderful woman, and how fortunate you had each other in your lives. I'm so sorry for your loss.

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  4. I am so sorry you lost such a blessing in your life but am delighted she was there so long for you to lean on and learn from. This was an amazing tribute to a one of a kind person that will live on in the minds and hearts of all those she touched.

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  5. A wonderful eulogy to someone who was obviously a wonderful person. You were lucky to have her in your life ... and so thank you for introducing her to us.

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  6. Kathy what a wonderful and interesting person. You were very blessed to have her in your life.

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  7. Oh Kathy, I am so very sorry for your loss and send you all the wishes of peace and healing.

    I just wrote this morning on another comment that I believe everyone comes into our world for a reason -- be is small (a smile when one is need) or large.

    Sister Ramona's "reason" for entering your life and the lives of others was indeed a large one and when that light goes out so many feel sadness. And yet in all your words here, even the ones most thoughtful and difficult, there is joy that someone can be so intuitive, understand so deeply, react in such a way as to bring happiness, smiles, trust, change, hope. Her gifts are great and your words are a powerful reminder of wonderful, self-less people in this world. She may be at the top of the class.

    And about your visit that didn't happen? She understood. Don't carry that one in your backpack, my friend. She understood.

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  8. When I saw that the title of this post began with "Remembering," I knew it involved death and clicked away. But something told me to click back to it, and I'm glad I did.

    It is so good know or hear about extraordinary people; the hope and encouragement they exude. What a blessing she was to you and all who knew her. I'm even inspired!

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  9. Beautiful. She lived out her faith in ways that are both stunning in how much influence she had over so many and inspirational for those whom never were fortunate to know her grace in personal ways. I'm so grateful she was part of your life. I think of how much you inspire and influence others, and then I have to reflective on the one who shared those character traits that make you the person you are. Thank you for sharing this.

    Also, forgive yourself for not getting there. She has. She understands.

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  10. Oh My Goodness... This one made me cry. I am sad for you --losing such a special friend. BUT--I'm also crying happy tears thinking of what an inspiration that special woman was all throughout your life... We need more like her, don't we?

    God's blessings on you --and may you keep her alive FOREVER.

    Hugs,
    Betsy

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  11. I'm just catching up and reading about your huge loss, Kathy. I'm so sorry, and yet, what a gift your friend was in your life ... what a truly good person.

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