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Ethel Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy were married nearly 18 years, and had 11 children together, before he was felled by an assassin’s bullet in June 1968. In her memoir, “Ethel Kennedy: The Extraordinary Life and Bold Legacy” (to be published Oct. 13 by HarperOne), daughter Kerry Kennedy writes of her mother’s inspiring example, from before and after the murder of her father.
Read an excerpt below, and don’t miss Rita Braver’s conversation with Kerry Kennedy on “CBS Sunday Morning” October 11!
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The Funeral Train (“We’ll Cry Later”)
The line outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where Daddy lay in state, was a mile long. One hundred thousand mourners passed by his coffin. Family and friends took turns holding vigil. The first time I witnessed that public outpouring of grief was when I accompanied Mum, along with my siblings, to a special service the night before the funeral. Mum’s face, swathed in a black veil, was composed, almost serene, as we knelt to pray. The singer Andy Williams, a close friend of Mum and Daddy, sang “Ave Maria” a cappella, his resonant tenor echoing through the cathedral. I was thinking that Mary and all her angels were in the very room with us. Mum, Grandma Rose, and our aunts told us that Daddy was in Heaven and happy to be with Uncle Jack, his eldest brother, Joe, and his sister Kick. I could picture that lovely reunion. I was eight years old, and as a child had such a strong sense of Heaven as a physical place that when I flew in an airplane I chose the window seat so I could try to find Heaven in the clouds. Mum also believed Heaven was real, and she felt the full presence of God when she prayed. Her faith kept her going. It lifted us all through those awful days.
[The next day] we were on the funeral train taking Daddy from New York to Washington, D.C., for the burial. Twenty-one rail cars carried hundreds of friends and family members on that slow, final journey. I looked out the windows, and all along the tracks people were lined up to wave or had their heads bowed in mourning. Some were in suits, some in denim overalls, a lot of women and girls in pastel summer dresses. There were Black and white people all out in force, sometimes mixed together, though it depended on which town we were passing through. There were people in military uniforms and young men with long hair and scraggly beards. There were a lot of nuns and priests, and people crossing themselves and crying.
Part of the time, I stood in the back, with the casket. I liked being in that car because no one spoke; it was very quiet and still, except for the rhythmic hum of people I loved repeating Hail Marys and the Lord’s Prayer.
When I walked through the train it was like a dream: All of our family, all of Daddy’s and Mum’s friends from across the country, filled the seats. I thought this must be what Heaven is like—all our friends, all together, all at once. Looking out the windows of that train at people holding handkerchiefs and American flags, and then being inside with all those friends, it felt as if waves of loss and tenderness were washing over me. In the midst of horror, there was such love and intimacy.
At the center of it all was my mother. She walked up and down the aisle, car after car, greeting old friends, comforting them in their grief, even as her own grief must have been overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” she told one passenger. “Thanks for coming.” She patted the back of another who was bent over in sorrow. “We’ll cry later,” she said.
My mother endured more tragedy in her lifetime than anyone should. But her spirit proved indomitable. All through the funeral I had been watching Mum closely and absorbing the lesson that one way to conquer despair is to focus on other people’s needs. And to keep moving, always keep moving.
Ethel Kennedy quickly became a beloved figure in the United States and across the globe. In magazine polls in the years to come, she was often voted the most admired woman in America. She seemed to have sailed through grief with her ever-present social grace and aplomb. That was only part of the story, though—the public side. Behind the scenes was a tale much more complex and, in many ways, more inspiring.
From “Ethel Kennedy: The Extraordinary Life and Bold Legacy” by Kerry Kennedy. Copyright © 2026 by Kerry Kennedy. Excerpted with permission by HarperCollins.
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