Born: 26 April 1919, Saint Alphonsus Terrace, Limerick City, County Limerick
Entered: 07 September 1936, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Died: 16 April 2002, Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin
Part of the Manresa, Dollymount, Dublin community at the time of death
◆ Interfuse
Interfuse No 112 : Special Edition 2002
Obituary
Mr Thomas (Tom) Donnellan (1919-2002)
26th April 1919: Born in Limerick
Early education in St. Philomena's, Limerick and Crescent College, Limerick.
7th Sept. 1936: Entered the Society at Emo
8th Sept. 1938: First Vows at Emo
1938 - 1941: Rathfarnham - Studying Arts at UCD
1941 - 1943: Receiving psychiatric treatment at “Health Centres”.
1943 - 1973: St. Ita's Psychiatric Hospital, Portrane
1973 - 2002: Manresa House - Sacristan, Ministered in the community
16th April 2002: Died at Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin
Tom was hospitalised recently in St. Vincent's Hospital for three months and had his left leg amputated. His heart remained weak, as it had been for the last few years. He was discharged to Cherryfield Lodge on 4th April, and died there, peacefully, on 16 April, 2002.
Paul Andrews writes....
Even as Jesuits go, Tom had an extraordinary story. He had deep and affectionate roots in Limerick where he came second in a family of four, of the strong Donnellan clan. Unusually the two boys outlived the two girls, now only Frank is left. Tom spent three years with the FCJs, and ten with the Jesuits in the Crescent. He was bright, led his class all the way, was looked up to as a star athlete, loved life. When he left school in 1936 it was not rare for such a boy to choose the Jesuits. He went to Emo for two years noviciate, then to Rathfarnham to start a degree in UCD.
Here is the sobering bit for us Jesuits. At the end of his long retreat Tom had offered God the unconditional service of his liberty, his mind and understanding. God heard him in a way he would never have wished. He had what was then called a broken head. His contemporaries noticed that he was skipping Sunday walks in order to study more at home. At the age of 21 Tom had a major breakdown, and for many years lost the use of his fine mind and understanding. The hardest loss of all was of his liberty, and for thirty years.
It was before the days of psychotropic drugs and there was little that medicine could do except contain him. A doctor remarked recently that if Tom fell sick that way today, he would be out of hospital after three weeks. But Tom was behind walls for more than a third of his life, while he grew from his splendid youth to middle age.
When his sister Maureen, then married in the USA, visited St Ita's Hospital in 1972, she found her little brother grey-haired, with a wispy beard, in heavy institutional clothes, but with his mind now functioning, with the help of new drugs. In some distress she wrote to Cecil McGarry, then Provincial, who replied with a compassionate letter, and sent out Joe Dargan (Rector of Manresa) and Paddy Meagher (then Socius) to visit Tom in Portrane. Paddy remembers how interested Tom was in the Province, and knew about several moves of his friends.
Maureen was the one who instigated his move back to a Jesuit house. The change was done gradually and carefully, and was slowed down not by any sickness of Tom but by habits born of long institutionalisation. He came to Manresa, which was both a retreat house and, at that time, a novitiate. Where the community treated him with some caution, unsure how to respond, it was the novices who did most to bring Tom back into the human race, treating him in a matter-of-fact but supportive way.
At the age of fifty-four he began to resume control of his own life. Asked about returning to Jesuit living he had said, “I would like to try preaching. My degree was in Latin so perhaps I could teach that”. But he never resumed formal studies, nor prepared for ordination; nor did he receive final vows, though the application went to Rome - the officials there did not want to canonise the role of perpetual scholastic. He loved the service of the altar, preparing the chapel and reading at Mass. He was invited to work in the grounds, but resisted, probably because that had been his staple occupation in Portrane.
He gradually took over other work around the house, and developed a rhythm of healthy habits: walking, collecting his Pension from the GPO on a Friday, sea swimming in all seasons), and nostalgic holidays in Limerick and Kilkee with his brother Frank. He was the proud holder of one record, not mentioned in the Guinness book: among all the Jesuits worldwide, Tom was the senior scholastic.
When we think about the Tom we have known, one grace is remarkable. While he was a quiet, unobtrusive man, he had also an innate dignity, which drew deep reverence and affection from those he met. He never complained, in any of his sicknesses, even at the end when failing circulation led to the amputation of his left leg. There was an interior life there at which we can barely guess. As we grow older, we talk about the difficulty of no longer being able to achieve anything, or to work. Spiritual writers tell us we have to be content just to be rather than do; and in our declining years that can seem hard. It is sobering to realise that Tom, a handsome, athletic man of great ability , faced that for most of his life.
Yet he seemed a happy man. He was conscious of being liked. When in the last month, his illness grew more acute and he was admitted to St. Vincent's Hospital, he told them there, in a wry, self-mocking way: In Cherryfield I am the pet. In Manresa, too, we missed him when he was away: not for his work- though it was reliable and invaluable; not for his talk - he would sit happily through a buzzing conversation without uttering a word, though he relished good stories. What we missed was his presence, a gentle, undemanding man with a unique history and a wonderful smile.
He was happy also in his going. The Cherryfield nurses tended him with a care and affection that brought tears to the eyes of his brother Frank, when he recalled it at the funeral lunch in Manresa. On the last evening, three of his community, together with Eddy Fitzgerald, anointed him slowly and lovingly, Tom opened his eyes and took it in. Less than thirty minutes later he had gone to God.
There are times, when the sun is shining and life is sweet, that we may worry that our Lord will say to us at the pearly gates: You have had your reward. There is no such fear in Tom Donnellan; he has had his suffering. His rewards, at least to human eyes, have been few. May God be as good to him as he was to God.
