Last survivor of orphanage fire passes away

The death of Catherine Graham at the age of 98 marks the end of a living link to one of the most harrowing tragedies in the history of the State.

Originally from Belturbet, Mrs Graham, who was the last living survivor of the 1943 fire at St Joseph’s Orphanage in Cavan, died on Wednesday. It was the same day as the funeral of her daughter Polly, in a deeply poignant moment for her family.

Paying tribute, her daughter Denise Farrell described her as “an amazing mother and friend who lived a wonderful, long, loving life”.

She described her as “a quiet woman" who was "so generous" and was "always giving, even when she had nothing growing up".

The mother of nine "never had a bad word to say about anyone" and her familiy considered her a saint.

"Our Queen of the family, and I do not know how we will get through life without her.”

As a 14 year old, Catherine Graham survived the devastating blaze that tore through the orphanage in the early hours of February 23, 1943. The institution, run by the Poor Clares, was engulfed in flames after a fire broke out in a ground-floor laundry, claiming the lives of 35 young girls and one adult. Those who died were not strangers to her, they were her friends, the girls she lived alongside each day.

Recalling the night in later years, Mrs Graham described waking “half-dressed” as smoke filled the building. In the panic, she and others attempted to reach the fire escape, only to find they couldn't use it.

She recounted that the escape could not be accessed because the keys were held by the nuns, a detail that would come to symbolise the failings exposed by the tragedy.

As conditions worsened, Catherine remembered turning back into the smoke in search of her younger sister Bernadette.

“She could have escaped but she went back for her younger sister,” her daughter Denise recalled.

Catherine eventually managed to reach a window. She smashed the glass, cutting her hands, while her was hair singed by flames.

Trapped on the ledge as rescuers struggled with ladders that were too short, she eventually lowered herself to safety. Several of her own sisters also survived, though one suffered serious burns. The trauma of that night never left her. After the fire, Catherine left Ireland for London, where she worked in a hotel, married, and went on to raise nine children, building a life defined by resilience, love and quiet strength.

For decades, she rarely spoke of her early life. Her daughter Denise said the family only learned of her experiences much later.

“We never knew anything about it because she was so ashamed of being an orphan, the way they were treated, sometimes when they were paraded through the town people would throw stones at them,” she claimed.

In later life, Mrs Graham returned to visit the graves of those who died and that of her sister, who is buried in a grave beside them.

Denise said her mother often spoke of the 35 friends she lost and the absence of any formal memorial to honour them, something that caused her lasting upset.

“They were left with nothing, it was like they didn’t exist,” Denise said, recalling her mother’s words.

The 1943 fire would become a defining moment in Ireland’s institutional history, raising enduring questions about care, oversight and safety.

For Catherine Graham, however, it was never history, it was memory. Her passing now closes a chapter in living memory of the fire.

Written by Lorraine Teevan