Dear Morning Report Readers,
My father passed on the day of my last post… May 24 at noon at BIDMC in Boston. Services were held this week in Syracuse NY and I will stay here to manage the estate for a few days. Read the obit & sign the guestbook at: Krueger Funeral Home Website
I will resume writing the Morning Report when I return to my home in Topsfield.
Below is part of the eulogy I delivered at his funeral mass on Wednesday.
Moving forward with a listening heart,
vision, inquiry, and action,
~ Mary
My father, Joe MacDonald ~ A Eulogy
by Mary MacDonald
May 27, 2013
My father lived a large life. His personality was that of an adventurer – he always had plans to travel and was happiest on the move and experiencing life’s newest inventions and offerings (he used an iPhone these last few years and just days ago we had a “face time” session from his room at the hospital). He couldn’t get enough of the good life and he would ramble off his strict diet at our many celebration dinners out. Never in my life did he order a drink, he’d begin a meal with a hot cup of coffee and ice water, sautéed mussels, fish chowder, and salad with extra blue cheese crumbles; he loved Chilean sea bass, and enjoyed a scoop of vanilla ice cream with butterscotch or caramel sauce. His generosity and love overflowed to family, friends and charities in the form of gifts, words, and time.
My father was a trusted friend and confidant. Many students and friends benefitted from his ability to listen with empathy and provide counsel on life’s challenges. Married to my mom Margaret for thirty-eight years, he was a faithful husband and father. He identified himself as an Irish-Catholic and he practiced his faith-in-action by choosing a teaching career that helped hundreds of middle-school kids in the North Syracuse School District; financially supporting many charitable causes; and being the type of person people enjoyed being around.
It was the middle of February, three months ago, that my father left his home with the hope that this heart surgery would renew his energy and extend his large life a bit longer – he’d take me on one or two more poker cruises to the Mediterranean, the North Sea, or the Baltic Sea… we could travel to China… Placing the bet of his life and understanding the risks, he signed himself into the clinical research study and successfully sustained a CORE valve replacement on March 12. Despite this success, the surgery left him with a damaged nerve disabling his left hand. After several weeks of post-surgery medical, physical and occupational rehabilitation, Joe was struggling, yet determined to get better and get back home, and his medical team still believed in him. He faced the prospect of living in a long-term-care facility the rest of his life. He was weak and he suffered from a damaged esophagus and swallowing ability. On May 10, Joe discharged himself from rehab to our home in Topsfield for the weekend and was able to tour our wheelchair-accessible memorial garden (in Margaret’s memory) one last time. He was visibly very sick and tired. He re-entered the hospital with pneumonia on May 13. He was put on a pureed-foods diet and taught a new cough-swallow-cough method of eating, which he practiced with labor for a few days. That didn’t work and a feeding tube was recommended.
It was two days before his death, Wednesday, May 22, when he enjoyed a last supper of a thickened Diet Coke and orange popsicles. He shared with me, “If I’m not dying, I’m close to it; I don’t have much to look forward to… No more Legal Sea Foods, Mary.” While waiting for the feeding tube, his kidneys began to shut down – a saline treatment ended up filling his lungs with fluid to the point he couldn’t breathe. Early Thursday morning he entered the CCU for cardiac and respiratory support, which involved heart medicines and an oxygen mask. Early Friday morning, May 24, he said to the medical intern, “I want to die.” Ten-minutes prior to death he shouted with a rasp through the oxygen mask, “This is horrible, horrible.” A minute after the insertion of a naso-enteric feeding tube, his blood pressure dropped and he was unresponsive except to my words, “Dad, can you hear me?” he nodded yes. “I love you.” The team lost Joe’s pulse. A resuscitation attempt failed. Joe’s spirit had moved on.
I shared the news of my father’s death with a close friend who has some psychic ability. She said that while I was speaking a warm, peaceful, loving feeling came over her and she saw in her mind’s eye Joe’s beautiful grinning toothless smile and he said, “Tell her I’m with Margaret and I’m happy.” Rest in Peace, Dad. We love you.