By Warren Kinsella                            Friday, June 18, 2004 - Page A20 Toronto Globe & Mail.

Doctor, husband, father. Born Feb., 15, 1932, in Montreal. Died June 15 in Kingston, Ont., of cancer,

aged 72.

Like some men, and as was the practice in some families, my brothers and I did not hug my father a lot. As we got older, we also did not tell him that we loved him as much as we did. With our artist Mom, there was always a lot of affection; but in the case of my Dad, usually all that was exchanged with his boys was a simple handshake, for hello or goodbye. It was just the way we did things.

There was, however, much to love about our father, and love him we did. He was, and remains, a giant in our lives -- and he was important, too, for many of the patients whose lives he saved or bettered over the course a half-century of healing.

Thomas Douglas Kinsella was born to his extraordinary mother, Mary, and Jimmy, son of Irish immigrants from Wexford. Around the noisy table in Outremont were sister Juanita, brother Howard and foster siblings Bea, Ernie, Ellen and Jimmy.

When he was very young, Douglas was beset by rheumatic fever. Through his mother's ministrations, Douglas beat back the crippling disease. But he was left with a determination to be a doctor.

Following graduation from Loyola High School in Montreal, Douglas enrolled at Loyola College, and also joined the Royal Canadian Armoured Corps. It was around that time he met Lorna Emma Cleary, at a Montreal Legion dance in April 1950. She was 17 -- a dark-haired, radiant beauty from Montreal's North End. He was 18 -- a handsome, aspiring medical student, destined for an officer's rank and great things.

It was a love like you hear about, sometimes, but that you rarely see. Their love affair was to endure for 55 years.

On a sunny day in June, 1955, mid-way through his medical studies at McGill, Douglas and Lorna wed at Loyola Chapel. Thereafter came an MD from McGill, fellowships and three sons: Warren, Kevin and Lorne. During a two-year research fellowship in Texas, Douglas's belief in a publicly-funded health care system -- and a diverse Canada -- was greatly enhanced.

In 1968, Douglas and his family returned to Canada and a professorship at Queen's University. In 1973, a two-year return to McGill. But burgeoning separatism -- and the promise of better research in prosperous Alberta -- persuaded the family to journey west, to Calgary.

There Douglas would happily remain for 25 years, working at the University of Calgary and raising three sons with Lorna, as well as providing legal guardianship to grandson Troy.

He raised his boys with one rule, which all remember, but none observed as closely as he did: "Love people, and be honest." His commitment to ethics, and healing -- and his love and honesty, perhaps -- resulted in him being named a Member of the Order of Canada in 1995.

On the day that the letter bestowing the honour arrived, Douglas came home from work early -- an unprecedented occurrence -- to tell Lorna. It was the first time I can remember seeing him cry.

As I write this, I am in a chair beside my father's bed in a tiny hospital room in Kingston, Ont., where he and my mother returned in 2001 to retire. It is night, and he has finally fallen asleep.

My father will die in the next day or so, here where he saved lives. He has politely declined offers of special treatment or even a room with a nicer view of the lake.

Before he fell asleep, tonight, I asked him if he was ready. "I am ready," he said.

When I leave him, tonight, this is what I will say to him: "We all love you, Daddy. We all love you forever."

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