Despite her very long illness and its recurring crises, Joan FitzGerald's death came as a shock to her family and friends.
Indeed, her ability to rally after an acute crisis had in their minds lent her a sort of immortality and bonded the family so much closer and deeper - with the result that the midnight summons on June 12th had much of the traumatic feel of a sudden and unexpected death by accident.
This is not the time and these are not the circumstances for a rounded appreciation of one of the most remarkable Irish people of her generation. The empty space left by her dying must be treated reverently and lovingly out of respect for her, for the sake of Garret and the family, and for grieving friends.
And this hasty tribute immediately encounters another difficulty; how to separate Joan and Garret.
Married for nearly 52 years, they had shared so much so closely: in the earlier spartan years of job-seeking and child rearing; in the hectic political years to 1987; and in what might have been the more leisurely and contemplative years after politics had it not been for Joan's continuing serious illnesses.
For all their utterly distinct personalities, clearly acknowledged by those who knew them well, you could not really have one without the other. In many ways, Garret was the public Joan, and Joan was the private Garret. This close, near osmotic relationship became particularly noticeable in those final years of suffering and caring.
Yet Joan remained very much her own person and trenchantly so at times. Given their shared commitments in politics and in education for example, she did not hesitate to disagree in private or in public. The causes Garret and Joan espoused were wide and deep, reaching from Northern Ireland to Zimbabwe, from social justice to educational reform, from a pluralist society to a vibrant theology and a renewed church.
In considering these issues, Joan often travelled uncharted ways as she carefully listened, quietly reflected and then by some process of intuition - if that is not too tired a word for such an energetic mind - she arrived at her own firm judgement.
In so many conversations on so many topics, Joan's interventions were incisive, even decisive, as her companions saw the validity of her point. Such clear insights remained part of her to her very last days.
Such sharpness of mind and word should not obscure her warmth of heart and, in particular, her compassion for the underdog. The welcoming smile and caring inquiry about personal and family well-being which she still managed for visitors to the end were part of a lifetime's practice of generosity and hospitality.
That hospitality and generosity were marvellously evident at her dinner table even when she had to preside from the bed. Good food, good company and good conversation were three of Joan's great delights and were, ultimately, related to the Eucharist at the bedside which sometimes went before. She had a deep religious sensibility as well as a genuine interest in theology, even if much of the clerical church irritated and disappointed her.
Joan was no more a saint than the rest of us. And why should she? To have known and loved her, to have been known and loved by her were at every level great graces. Beyond immediate family and close friends, people from every section of Irish life have experienced the benefit of the love and political commitment of Joan and Garret. They will join in supportive sympathy for the FitzGerald family in their bereavement.
The Rev Prof Enda McDonagh, formerly professor of moral theology and canon law at St Patrick's College, Maynooth, is chairman of the UCC governing body.