Regional Storyteller

Laurent d’Entremont



Sister Cecile d’Entremont, a first cousin to my grandfather, died recently in Halifax at 99 years of age.

Cecile had been a nun for almost 80 years, if not a record, a darn good average.

She entered the convent in 1925 and had been faithful to her cause ever after. She took her vows in 1928 as a Sister of Charity and served as a schoolteacher in both Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. She was also known as the co-founder of a Halifax-based seniors group called Northern Lights. We knew her, though, because she took her summer vacation by visiting relatives in her native village of West Pubnico.



Two of her sisters were also nuns with the Sisters of Charity, Sister Irmine and Sister Olivia, and they had a brother who was a priest, Father Leopold d’Entremont. Sister Cecile also had four more sisters whom she outlived.

Her sister, Mercedes, who lived near me, was the matriarch of D’Entremont Fisheries Ltd. from my boyhood days. Mercedes, a charming lady, had four sons in the fishery business and two daughters who chose other vocations. Many years ago the four nephews promised Sister Cecile that they would be at her funeral and would carry her to her reward, as she had requested.



Sister Cecile would visit her Acadian relatives and stay with her sister Mercedes. After Mercedes died, she often stayed with nephew Eric and his wife Jeanne, who had restored the old homestead where the good nun had been born.

The nephews and nieces loved their aunt and catered to her whims and ignored her childish eccentricities, but she had the habit of asking too many questions, questions that some saw as sort of annoying. Often she would ask friends, “Don’t you think that I look well for my age?” As a matter of fact, she did. I remember her as quite immune to the passing years.




One of her close friend was Rosa, the wife of Stillman, the barber in many of my features. When Rosa died in her 80s, Sister Cecile came to the funeral home and stood in front of the coffin and preached on Rosa’s good qualities, and hinted at some of her not-so-good qualities, like her quick temper, for example. This prompted a relative to whisper. “Now I’m sure that Aunt Rosa is really dead, otherwise she would be getting up about now.”

When it came time for the senior nun to return home to Mount St. Vincent in Halifax, Sister Cecile would get her favorite nephew, Eric, to drive her there in his big Buick. She had no use for a six hour bus ride, not taking into consideration that Eric had to drive three hours each way to take her to Halifax.



Years went by, friends died as did all her siblings, most if not all, in their 80s. This did not stop the good Sister of Charity from visiting her native village; she still kept asking the same question: “Don’t I look good for a woman my age? You know, I’m not young any more.”

The last time I saw her was at church when she was in her 90s - still looking extremely well for her age and still fishing for compliments. By this time, she was no longer wearing the nun’s black habit with the white brimmed bonnet.



Sister Cecile d’Entremont was in her 100th year when she was called to that great mother house in the sky. She had lived a long and contented life, and was not forgotten by her relatives. Sure, she had been sort of an oddity living in a world that no longer existed, but she had always been loved and respected by those who knew her best.

Family and friends motored to Halifax for the funeral; she had been the last link of an earlier time with her Pubnico clan. It had been many years since her four nephews had made that promise of carrying her to the grave, a promise that all had intended to keep, but sadly, not one of them showed up for her funeral. They had good reasons for not being there. By living close to the century mark, not only had she outlived all her friends, she had also outlived all four of her nephews.


laudent@hotmail.