The day before she died, Sister Philomena bought nail varnish in her local chemist shop, and was at pains to explain that her unusually frivolous purchase was because she was going to a party.
She was bubbling with excitement as she spoke of her plans to travel to Dublin the next day and then on to Cork, where she was to spend the holidays with relatives. She wished everyone in the shop a happy Christmas several times.
Christmas was on hold in the small rural town of Ballybay yesterday as news spread of her death.
Local traders and the fire brigade had arranged for Santa to arrive by boat on Lough Mor, as is the tradition in this lake-studded region, but the visit was postponed. Stunned locals remembered a nun less than five feet tall but with an ever-present, unmissable smile that seemed to give her a presence that belied her tiny size.
"She was always smiling and always saying hello to everybody," said Seamus Duffy, whose sister was resident for two years in St Joseph's nursing home run by Sister Philomena's order. "She'd always say, 'Come and have a cup of tea with us. You will. You will'. She wouldn't let you say no. She was a lovely person."
Retired shopkeeper Katie O'Daly remembered Sister Philomena as a regular customer. "She used to buy copies from me for the school and she'd buy a box of sweets for the children. She was very good-natured like that."
A former pupil, who was too nervous to be named, recalled a teacher whom every pupil loved. "She was well able to control a class but we were never afraid of her. She was a very good teacher and she loved her prayers. We said a decade of the rosary every day in her class. It's really hard to think of something like that happening here. She was so small and vulnerable."
A chilling feeling of vulnerability was creeping through Ballybay last night.
At the convent, the sisters remained indoors, their phone unanswered. On the path outside, where Sister Philomena had waited for her bus, the collection of floral tributes grew.