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ED BROMFIELD |
At his regular Wednesday night basketball game a few weeks ago, some three years into a battle with pancreatic cancer, Ed Bromfield played as hard as ever and only told his friends in an e-mail afterward that it was his last game. Perhaps that was just as well.
"He made the winning basket, and he had a kid in a candy store grin on his face," said Dutch Henry, his next-door neighbor in Newton and a player in the Wednesday games. "This sounds really corny, but it really happened. His wife said, 'You guys weren't cutting him any slack, were you?' And I said, 'No, he never wanted anyone to cut him any slack.' "
No slack was discernible in any aspect of Dr. Bromfield's life. A physician who founded the epilepsy program at Brigham and Women's Hospital, he was just as well known for teaching students and colleagues how to balance family, work, and hobbies as he was for showing them how to be better doctors.
Dr. Bromfield, chief of epilepsy and sleep neurology at the hospital, died May 10 at his Newton home. He was 58.
In a eulogy prepared for today's memorial service, Terry Bromfield said her husband found out he had cancer on her birthday and called to tell her before they met for dinner.
"When I sat down at the table to join him, he took both of my hands, looked into my eyes, and said, 'I have no regrets,' " she wrote. "Can you imagine living a life and having no regrets?"
Dr. Bromfield balanced his passion for his work and family with his devotion to Boston's sports teams and his own athletic pursuits, and made it all look remarkably easy, family and friends said.
"He just had a great sense of humor, a very easy way about him - inclusive, funny, and a first-rate mind," said Jonathan Katz, another friend in Newton. "A lot of people are great academics and intellectuals, but Ed was kind of this renaissance guy."
Dr. Barbara Dworetzky, a colleague at Brigham and Women's, said it "was a total privilege to work with Ed Bromfield. He was an amazing teacher and a true role model in every aspect of his life."
Edward Bromfield grew up in Dorchester and Milton, where he graduated from Milton High School in 1969. He studied psychology at Harvard, graduating in 1973, and also had a radio show.
Self-taught on guitar, he sang in a low, resonant voice, "trying to channel Mississippi John Hurt," his wife recalled. Hurt's music will be played at today's service, along with a jazz piece his son Benjamin composed as a Father's Day present a few years ago.
After Harvard, Dr. Bromfield worked at the Landmark School in Beverly, teaching children with learning disabilities. Then he moved to Herzliya, Israel, where he taught special education. While there he met Terry Goldberg, who was visiting relatives, including an aunt who played music with Dr. Bromfield.
Returning to the United States, he graduated from Worcester State College with a master's in adult education and taught literacy skills. By the time he married in 1980, he wanted to change his career path.
Years later, he wrote in a biographical sketch that he decided to specialize in neurology while studying at Harvard Medical School "because the brain was so obviously the most interesting organ in the body."
He graduated in 1983 and worked at New England Medical Center before joining the staff of Brigham and Women's 15 years ago. Dr. Bromfield was also the founding medical director of Camp Wee-Kan-Tu, the first overnight camp in New England for children with epilepsy.
The resume, however, does little to capture the breadth of his knowledge or the depth of his interests, say those who knew Dr. Bromfield.
"He knew something about everything, it just amazed me," said his sister, Marcia, who lives near Dr. Bromfield's family in Newton. "He loved learning, he was always reading, and he was always listening to the radio, so he was versatile in his knowledge. When we were in Maine a few weeks ago, we were looking at the stars and he was pulling out books about the constellations."
Such range led to some jaw-dropping moments in trivia games.
"We would look at him and say, 'What? How do you know that?' " his wife said.
Still, he wore his learning lightly, never flaunting his accomplishments. He taught at Harvard Medical School and conducted research in areas such as how to surgically treat epilepsy, and other matters related to the illness.
Dworetzky said he was "a superb clinician, highly sought after by patients," but Dr. Bromfield took a more modest view.
"He said to me once, 'I probably could be nationally known, but I don't want to leave home and go to those conferences,' " his wife said. "He was just incredibly devoted to our family."
The family was just as devoted to him. At an award ceremony a few years ago, Dr. Bromfield's sons introduced him.
Daniel Bromfield, who lives in Cambridge, spoke of how his father was content to tool around in a 1984 Pontiac Sunbird that didn't have air conditioning, and added, "My father didn't ask for praise, but he received it frequently from those who recognized his intelligence, morals, and compassion."
When it was his turn, Benjamin, who studies music in Boston, borrowed from his father's sense of humor.
"I turned 18 this week, and as I am legally a man, I am glad to say that I have a remarkable role model to look up to. My dad has shown me how to be a great father, loving husband, and dignified professional, and above all, he's shown me that you can lead a perfectly successful and wonderful life without a full head of hair."
Not long before he died, Dr. Bromfield had traveled to the family's summer place in Washington, Maine. He watched a Celtics game with his family, pulled out his guitar to sing, and rode - not rowing, for a change - in a canoe. At the shore of Washington Pond, he told his sons it would be his last visit and hugged them, both at once.
"Ed loved skipping stones," his wife wrote in the eulogy she prepared for today. "And I think those stones are a metaphor for how he lived his life."
While the first impact was on family, "his care and loving attention towards us was unending," the ripples touched community and colleagues, patients and friends, and his worlds of sports, music, and teaching.
"He balanced it all, but it wasn't a balancing act," she wrote. "It was smooth. And effortless. Because he cared so much for us."
In addition to his wife, sons, and sister, Dr. Bromfield leaves his father, Zangwill of Brookline.
A memorial service will be held at 9:30 a.m. today in Levine Chapels in Brookline. Burial will be in Sharon Memorial Park in Sharon.![]()




