Contributions to the tribute of Louis R. Maffei, MD

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Sunday, November 17, 2024

Eulogy The events of the past week and this thing that we are doing here today should not have happened. In fact it should have happened during the winter of 1964. Dad had moved into the area to work at an up-and-coming hospital named St. Clare’s. While coming home after completing a shift at Riverside Hospital he fell on a set of icy steps coming into his apartment hitting his head so severely that it knocked him out. He woke up almost an hour later dusted in snow. He then did what most doctors would do – nothing – doctors are terrible patients (nurses are worse.) In the following days he could not ignore his injury as symptoms worsened and underwent surgery to treat a subdural hematoma. He remained unconscious for many days, his prognosis poor, his childhood friend Jimmy Glynn gave him last rites – it should have ended there. He should never have met my mother, I should never have been born, and a whole lot of people under this roof should never come into existence. But some days later he opened his eyes – he was back. In 1994 he survived another near-death experience. On a whim I played hooky and stayed home from work that day. That afternoon I heard the front door open. Dad had come home early because he didn’t feel well (red flag - he never called out sick), and when I saw his color I knew something was wrong (thanks to Boy Scout first aid.) I quickly got him to the hospital where he was treated for a pretty severe heart attack known as a widowmaker – it should have ended there. That was 30 years ago, and since that time he got to see my sister and brother graduate college, all of his children get married, his grandchildren being born and spending dozens of holidays and vacations with them, and to watch 3 of his grandchildren go off to college and grow into adults. He was very proud of all of you and left this world very content. None of this was supposed to happen. Dad was born into an immigrant family at the start of the Great Depression and grew up during World War II. Our country’s involvement in the war started on a Sunday – the only reason I know that is because Dad shared with me his vivid memory as child. They were having Sunday dinner at my grandparents’ house and his uncles had just arrived with news of the attack on Pearl Harbor. His uncle Frank sat down at the table and proclaimed “Eat up boys, we’re going to war.” In the following weeks and months 4 of his uncles and his brother received their draft papers and off they went. His uncles would eventually return, his brother never made it home. Dad and his generation came into this world at a time of widespread poverty and desperation followed by years of a world at war filled with enormous suffering and turmoil – It was not a time of easy living and no knew when or how things were going to end. But he was the generation that lived it and it made them understand what was really important in life – hard work, perseverance, family, and helping those who needed help. It was many years into his adulthood before he finally got to see a world at peace where many could experience a happiness and prosperity that they had never seen before. Dad’s decision to study medicine came at the influence of one of his math teachers at Seton Hall Prep, a man named Lou Sarno. They were talking in class one day and Mr. Sarno asked him, “Maffei, what do you want to do with your life.” Dad told him he wanted to study Aeronautical Engineering and work in the aerospace industry. Mr. Sarno shot back, “no you don’t, if you do that you’ll end up teaching math like me (Sarno was a Yale graduate who studied math) – go into medicine, you’ll do well for yourself AND you can help people who need it.” The seed was planted. He had a natural talent for talking to and helping people, and he became friends with MANY of his patients. His greatest trait was the reason for his success as a doctor - humility. Dad had a great respect for veterans and those in religious vocations (especially the nuns at St. Clare’s and St. Francis) because of their sacrifice and dedication to their mission. He took on many nuns as patients and he would never charge them, but they would cook and bake for him, and he thought that was a fair swap. When I married into an Irish family, I learned some of their cultural subtleties – including a maneuver known as the Irish goodbye – when you’re ready to leave the party you just slip out the nearest exit without anyone noticing. I love Irish goodbyes. As opposed to the Italian goodbye where you are still standing in the doorway talking for an hour after you attempt to make an exit. Dad’s departure from the world was very much an Italian goodbye. Over the past few months and weeks he saw and spoke to everyone he wanted to see, ate the things he wanted to eat, and watched what’s shaping up to be a pretty good football season for the Fighting Irish (including the Georgia Tech and Navy games.) It's very easy to talk about someone after they're gone, what’s hard is to talk about someone when they are still here. Rest assured Dad knew exactly how we felt about him, and we knew exactly how we felt about us. Nothing was left unsaid. Dad got through life because of 3 things – family, faith, and the science of medicine that he practiced for over 50 years. Of course, it helped that his family had good genes – on both sides. He had an infinite love for my mother. He may have been the primary breadwinner, but he couldn’t find his socks without her – she kept him grounded, and he knew that. To my wife and brother-in-law – Dad thought of you as his own children, although, sorry Sean, I think Carol was the favorite – not just because she looks better in high heels, but because she’s a nurse and from that they shared a special bond. This was a life that lived itself out to the end, not one that ended tragically and abruptly – as was supposed to happen – on at least two occasions. I know – I was standing in that ER 30 years ago and it was supposed to end that way. Although we’ll never stop caring about him, we can now stop worrying. Congratulations on a life well lived.

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Carol Maffei posted a condolence

Saturday, November 16, 2024

Dad, Thank you for accepting me into your family and loving me like your own. I always felt that we shared a special bond due to our love of medicine. We spent many nights around the dinner table trading stories and debating the direction medicine would take in the future. Thank you for being the guiding light in our family. You will continue to always have a seat at the table in our hearts. Thank you for setting the perfect example of how to be a loving husband, father and grandfather. You will continue to be here in every story told and memory shared. Until we meet again in Heaven. Love you, Dad. — Carol

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Liz Norris lit a candle

Thursday, November 14, 2024

My deepest condolence on the loss of your sweet Louis. May your memories comfort and stay with you always.

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Matteo Maffei posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Papa, I will miss seeing and talking to you at the house, especially during the holidays. Thank you for all your advice about baseball. I will be thinking about you each time I take the mound to pitch, or when Marko, Dad, and I are watching Notre Dame football. Love you Papa, Matteo :)

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Tara Maffei posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

For the wisest, most selfless, and kindhearted man I've ever known: I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man’s face light up as brightly as Papa's whenever I entered a room. He always told me I was his princess. When I was little, he’d call me the apple of his eye, his sweetie pie—and those words stuck with me. Being his only granddaughter, he never failed to remind me that I was his angel, and now he’s mine. When I shared my dream of becoming an orthodontist, our bond grew even stronger. He would tell me, "You’re going to be the next Dr. Maffei." Whenever school feels overwhelming or I’m tempted to give up, those words give me the motivation to keep going. They remind me that I’m not just working toward my own dreams, but honoring his too. I couldn't be more honored to carry on your name and legacy someday. To one day share the title of Dr. Maffei is the greatest honor I could imagine. It will represent more than just my hard work; it will represent his. It’s a legacy of care, intelligence, and passion that I will proudly strive to continue. Papa was the King. Everyone sought his approval, and nothing would ever start until he was in the room. He sat at the head of the table every time our family got together for dinner and even sat in a special seat in the center of the living room every year when we exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. Most importantly, he always wished the best for all of us. One of the last things he said to me, I can still hear in his voice: "I love you too, honey, and good luck to ya." From your life lessons to your goofy sense of humor, every moment with you was a gift. You had a way of making us laugh just as much as you made us feel loved. Thank you for building this family that I'm so lucky to have. I know I can speak for the whole Maffei family when I say you were everyone’s rock, the man we all looked up to. You have truly succeeded in being a husband, father, and grandfather as you are truly idolized by all of us. I hope heaven is filled with endless Hershey bars and the comfiest reclining chair because you don’t deserve any less. I hope you get the best view of all the successes and milestones our family achieves because I already saved a seat in the front row for you. Though I miss you more than words can express, I know you will be with me every step of the way. I’ll make you proud, Papa. Rest in Peace.

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Anthony Maffei posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

My grandfather, Louis Robert Maffei Sr., was a kind and loving man in his professional career as a doctor and inside his home with a family whom he loved very much. As a kid, I remember him telling my cousin and me stories of him as a young boy, what it was like living during WWII, and parts of his life in the future. It was eye-opening to hear what he had lived through and endured so that he could make his family happy, which makes me want to strive to be more like him every day. He was a selfless man who put others before himself whether that be through lending a helping hand or making jokes about himself just to make others laugh. He was a great father but an even better grandfather. He taught me and my cousins valuable life skills about generosity and kindness that I will never forget. His memory will live on in all of us. Love you, Papa.

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Mark Maffei posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

To Papa, I am beyond grateful for the love, care, joy, and respect you have brought to me, and the rest of the family throughout the years. You have truly demonstrated to me what it means to provide for a family, get through school successfully, and take care of others, which are all things I aspire to do in my life. Papa, thank you for the valuable lessons you’ve taught me over the years, the jokes we’ve shared, what it takes to be a hard worker, and finally, the never-ending belief you’ve had in me to do great things in life. I am truly blessed to have shared these memories and moments with you, and every day in my life, I will remember the sacrifices you’ve made and the happiness you’ve brought to all of us. -Mark

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Louis Golia posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Rest in peace. Tippy & Lou Golia

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Mark Andrew Maffei posted a condolence

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Dad, Words cannot express how much we already miss you, but feel so thankful to have had you as long as we did. In a world filled with common men, you were so unbelievably “uncommon” – an extraordinary father and grandfather, a loving and devoted husband, an incredibly smart and well educated physician, a highly successful but humble guy, a loyal and devout Catholic, and a truly unbelievable role model. Your positive influence, unconditional love, and sense of humor – as well as your honesty, integrity, work ethic, and HUMILITY – has been an inspiration and will stay with Mark, Matteo, and I forever. I love you, Dad. Mark

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The family of Louis R. Maffei, MD uploaded a photo

Tuesday, November 12, 2024

In loving memory of

Louis

1932 - 2024