TP McInerney, an Irish Dominican, died in Mount Carmel Hospital today.
Since August Tom has been a patient most of that time in the south Dublin hospital.
I have had the grace and good fortune to visit him most evenings.
His patience and kind spirits have greatly impressed me.
Last evening, on my asking, he told me he had not had too good a day.
It's seldom in my life I have seen such bravery and fortitude.
I shall miss him. My daily visit had become part of my routine.
May he rest in peace.
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22 comments:
Sad to hear of Tom's (Pat's) death.
Yes, it is terribly sad. What the hell is it all about.
It must have been 1972 when I did an interview with him for the then vocations' magazine.
The following year he gave me his Velo Solex scooter. Two or three weeks ago he recalled how I had never given it back to him.
He did not have an ounce of all that stupid 'priestly stuff'.
I am going to miss my daily visit.
He was a gentleman.
I am very saddened to hear the news of Tom's death also. I didn't know him as well as you did, but I got the opportunity in recent years to have long conversations with him. They were edifying. He was one of the very few brethren who went out of his way to encourage me in my own work. For that, I will be forever grateful.
May he rest in peace.
I am also saddened to hear of Tom's death. I didn't know him as well as you did, but I had the opportunity in recent years to have long conversations with him. These were always edifying.
He was also one of the very few brethren who went out of his way to encourage me in my work and ministry. For that, I will be forever grateful.
May he rest in peace.
A funny story about Tom.
He taught me and my class in 1969/7. Something to do with public speaking - I think.
On the first day he asked the class if anyone could spell the word 'paraphernalia'. No one could.
In all the English classes I have taughtsince that day, indeed, German and maybe even religious knowledge too, I have always asked my students if they could spell the word.
I don't think anyone has ever spelled it correctly first go.
Just this year a student tried to google it on her smart phone. I caught her - not so smart after all.
On Monday I was moaning to him about the absence of captions in a publication and a poor quality caption on the 'Irish Times' of the day.
He reminded me of the etymology of the word 'caption' and the correct positioning of a caption.
Some weeks back I was 'crying on his shoulder' and he told me not to fear that I could never be an institutional man.
I suspect that many of us have stories about Tom. Mine also concerns public speaking training in Tallaght. While I was in full flight at the ambo in an empty church during a practice seesion, he unobtrusively lifted the kneeler on one of the church benches with one foot before leting it fall back with a thundering crash to try to rattle me. He didn't succeed :-)
The memories you are evoking.
One day reading in the refectory Tom stopped me. I had said nausea in a particular way and he stopped and corrected me. I continued reading. He stopped me again and said,
"Brother Michael, the custom in this house is that when the corrected is corrected by the corrector mensae, the corrected corrects the correction of the corrector mensae."
My pronunciation was not wrong that day.
The previous day Tom Lawson was reading and mispronounced the word corps as in army. He said 'corpes'. He was allowed get awaay with it.
Then again, I fancied myself as a good reader - still do, God love us.
It never got me anywhere.
For months now it has been part of my routine to call to Tom at the end of my walk. My dog Tess had grown accustomed to be tied to a bicycle stand for 10 to 15 minutes while I was in the hospital.
Just this Wednesday Tom told me to give his regards to Tess.
And now he is gone, dead. Difficult to fathom.
Yesterday a Dominican said to me that he remembered him heading down the back cloister to say Mass. He said he saw him 'swaggering' down, with a chalice in one hand and expected him to have a fag in the other.
It might be somewhat irreverent but it's funny and good too.
But Lord save us, isn't it so much more refreshing than some of what we are seeing these days.
Good mourning involves telling stories. Tom generally went to work at RTE in mid-morning. If it was frozen or had snowed, he had a ritual which always reminded me of the joy of a little boy. He used to drive his car onto the empty car-park at St. Mary's and spend a happy ten minutes or so sending the car skating around in circles before heading off to Montrose.
Oh, I can see him just doing that.
He wore gloves driving his car. And there are loads of stories about driving a car with gloves on.
Two stories about Tom McInerney -
I was sweeping the stairs in Tallaght priory one morning and he came along. I stepped back to let him pass, stood to attention with the brush, and gave him a military style salute. He went on a few steps and then said, without looking back, 'one only salutes if wearing a cap'.
Philip G, on his way to class, told us he had met him on the stairs and asked him, 'Tom, what's the nature of theology?' (that's what the class was to be on). 'Bloody', Tom replied.
There is a great stroy of his travellng with SNCF with two young women sitting opposite him in the coach. They thought he was French and began commenting on some of his features. Just as he was about to leave the train he let them know he was Irish.
Thanks to Michael and the other commenters for these little sketches of Father Tom (Pat). It is great to hear them. Pat was my uncle, and over so many years I’d grown to love the wonderful stories he’d recall from his travels through the world – from Iran to Nepal, India to Patagonia, and back to Tipperary – much like opening a fabled old atlas. We will all miss him dearly. On the last day that I saw him, he talked about Albert the Great, and how Albert was feared as a Magus or conjurer of dangerous, magical and unexplained phenomena.
An apt description of the man himself, I thought.
Laurence O’Dwyer
Tom McInerney's death also had a profound impact on me.
Since Donal Sweeney told me at the beginning of December that Tom was in Mount Carmel not far from where I live, I went to see Tom every two or three days. I enjoyed the visits very much and now I miss them. I saw him on the Tuesday before he died on the Thursday and he was his usual blasé and informative self, informing me about how the Fransicans had been given responsibility for overseeing the Catholic churches in the Holy Land ( a place I had visited in November). Even though he knew that he was close to death and as his family told me in great pain and on heavy doses of morphine, he was totally focused on our discussion. His death within 48 hours appeared to me to be seamless. He has taught me something about how to face up to death with confidence.
Even though Tom was my lecturer during my time in the Dominicans, I did not know him very well, but I feel I did get to know him from the visits to Mount Carmel. He had a great authority about him and a sense of outrage about bureaucratic un Christian practices in the Church. He displayed a profound love for the Dominican tradition. He treated me courtesly as a former Dominican and thanked me profusely for a visit every time I was leaving.
I was happy to share in the wonderful send off he go from his Dominican brothers in Tallaght.
Goodbye Tom, thanks and may you rest in peace.
Barry Nyhan
How wonderful to hear such beautiful stories of my Uncle Pat! I am his niece, Louise, and I live in California. Uncle Pat was a presence throughout my life. He was there at every milestone that happened within our family; communions, confirmations, weddings, even the baptism of my oldest daughter, Alison, and of course funerals. I was able to visit with him on my last trip to Ireland, along with my youngest daughter, Olivia. I remember that he told me "what a beautiful young lady" my daughter is and how gentle she seemed to him. The words that come to mind when I think of him are holy, sacred and divine. He would probably laugh a little if he actually heard me say such a thing....because he saw himself only as quite human. It was in his humaness that the holy came through. And, as his niece, along with my sister and brother, he was tremendous fun. I remember Smarties, jangling in his pocket, that my brother would try to find and Uncle Pat's grin when my own children were exploring the round stairs at the Priory in Tallagt. Thank you so much for the stories, they help with the sadness and bring a piece of joy to the mourning.
Thank you Louise.
God protect us from those who give the impression of being holy.
In the last few months sitting with him I became greatly aware of his gentleness and kindness. Also his wisdom.
It's a wonderful thing (but not surprising) to hear such lovely comments about my late uncle, or Father Tom, or just Paddy as he was known in our family.
In the 1970's Pat was my first introduction to 'cool': he wore a black leather jacket; he smoked panatellas, tipped; he drove nice cars with driving gloves; he spoke French, fluently for goodness sake!
But Pat was no pretentious Father Trendy, trying pathetically to connect with a disinterested youth. In a quiet way (and I imagine unknown to even himself) he was a huge influence in our lives.
The last time I spoke with him he told me of a Free State Officer's account of the routing of the IRA from the British Army Barracks in Tipperary and how how the soldiers were afraid to linger as the chandelier in the Commanding Officer's quarters was about to come crashing down on their heads! And then he laughed, that big well-spoken smokey laugh.
Good bye Pat
Ah, the gloves. I remember those gloves. I remember that leather jacket oo.
It must have been between 1969 and 1972 that I did an interview with him for a pubication on vocations.
And there was a picture with the piece wheni it appeared.
Watch this space tomorrow.
I have thought so much of him in the past number of days. Oh, that smokey laugh, so Uncle Pat. I can hear it.
And how he always called his mother "mama" said in the French way (can't do the French spelling on my IPad which I am sure would actually amuse my Uncle). The rest of us, including her own children, called her Granny, Uncle Pat always said mama.
Nice to see you hear Pat (my brother!)
The picture of Fr Tom in today's 'Irish Times' really catches him - I think. Thank you for sending it to me.
I published one of him in the early 1970s, alas, I can't find.
Whoever is going through his files, might hopefully find it. He actually put on a Roman collar for the pic!
A wonderful obituary! Thank you. I posted it on my FaceBook page (thank you Pat and Terry) to share with my children and friends. The man will be remembered.
Michael,
I believe I still have my copy of that interview/picture. It will take me ages to locate it in old files, but rest assured I will pass it on to you when I locate it! It was a photo that struck me at the time: TP was a priest with an active, working agenda that took him into the market-place. He proved a valuable support and adviser to me also when I began working for RTE in 1992.
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