He was born in Norwalk Hospital and died there. And worked there as a surgeon for 40 years in between.
Medical School Graduation, 1959
His funeral mass was at St. Thomas the Apostle Church, where his 6 girls made their First Communion and Confirmation. Several of us got married there, too. And all 6 of us went to 1st through 8th grade across the street at St. Thomas school. It’s the smallest school you have ever seen in your life, although it seemed gigantic then.
After Dad's funeral the lunch reception was at Shorehaven Golf Club, right where Julie and Jane and I had our wedding receptions. It’s also where Dad celebrated his 70th birthday, where we celebrated Mom’s
Dad left us way too early; he never got old. But at his wake -- during the four hours the line of people was out the door and down the sidewalk -- the influx of people from the Norwalk High School Class of ’51, from Dad's Norwalk Hospital colleagues, his friends from kindergarten and Shorehaven, his PAs, Mom's nursing and Wesport school system buddies, and from our friends -- one after another who told us how much they looked up to him -- that incredible outpouring made it that much less painful.
We had high hopes for
Dad didn’t suffer endlessly, and he died with Mom and Julie holding his hands, and four of his daughters had a great visit with him Thursday night. That helps when thinking about how he died.
But when I think about how he lived? In all the stories about Dad that have emerged over the last days, the thing that keeps returning to me is that Dad lived a life of symmetry. And my Dad, my expert, organized, woodworking, meticulous surgeon of a Dad . . .