In last days, a quest for joy, music, family
The family gathered for lunch and dinner just about every day and night. At dinners, the children were under orders to tell family stories, and to make them joyful. There were sing-alongs, too. Sometimes, his sons would be instructed to sing duets; other times he and his wife took the lead. Grandchildren were a constant presence.
Senator Edward M. Kennedy, a towering figure in American public life for the last half-century, spent the waning moments of his life in the quiet embrace of his family, in a place he loved: his seaside home in Hyannis Port.
His cancer had been progressing at a steady clip for several months, affecting his speech and his motor skills, but he remained fully cognizant and was still fully capable of communicating, according to people close to the family. It wasn’t until the last several days that he began to slip into the disease with more velocity. But even midday Tuesday, while family knew he was worsening, they did not believe his death was imminent. It wasn’t until early Tuesday evening that family members were summoned for what would be his final hours.
Kennedy sailed as recently as a week ago Sunday, a hot New England day with nice breezes. It would be his last trip on his beloved schooner, the Mya. Late last week, he was driven around the village of Hyannis Port by one of his sons, Teddy Jr., and his daughter, Kara, a ride that included a swing through the Hyannisport Club during a golf tournament.
When he died, it was about 11:30 p.m. He was surrounded by family members, in his house, in what was described as a peaceful departure.
“I would say there were a lot of joyous times, but the undercurrent was everyone knew the seriousness of his disease,’’ said Dr. Lawrence C. Horowitz, a former aide who was in constant contact with the senator, helping to coordinate his treatment. “I think it’s fair to say he lived longer and happier than he ever thought he could when he was first diagnosed.’’
Ever since that diagnosis, in May of 2008, it was clear to friends, political associates, and Americans across the country that, as the legendary scion of a political dynasty confronted his mortality, Kennedy was on dual missions: to battle cancer discreetly and with characteristic Kennedy grit and to cement his legacy, by helping to elect Barack Obama and pushing for health care reform.
As the country yesterday sifted through memories of Kennedy during the last year - some painful, as when he collapsed at a luncheon after Obama’s inauguration - and some playful, as when he tossed out the first pitch at Red Sox Opening Day - many remarked on his perseverance through personal pain and his caring for others, such as the phone calls he made to friends who were stricken with illnesses or had lost loved ones.
“Welcome to the cancer club,’’ Kennedy told his friend, Senator Christopher Dodd, after the Connecticut Democrat was diagnosed with prostate cancer in July.
“The moment you needed to hear from somebody, Ted Kennedy would be there,’’ Dodd said yesterday, chuckling at the memory. “He could make you laugh at moments you never thought you could.’’
The prognosis for Kennedy was initially exceedingly grim, with doctors predicting he had just months to live after he was diagnosed with a malignant glioma, an incurable brain tumor. Advised by Horowitz and a group of prominent doctors and former aides, he took up an aggressive battle for his health, undergoing surgery to remove the tumor and enduring chemotherapy and radiation.
Kennedy remained away from the Senate until last summer, when he stunned the political world and returned for the first time since his diagnosis, bellowing “aye’’ and helping the Democrats reverse a cut in Medicare funding.
Perhaps his most powerful moment came at the Democratic National Convention one year ago this Tuesday. It was not initially clear that he would be able to deliver his speech. In pain throughout the day, he finally rose and declared that he would speak. When he stood on the dais, after being introduced by his niece, Caroline, and escorted by his wife, Vicki, he seemed to capture the resurgent hopes of the Democratic Party. Many in the crowd of thousands were weeping, many were waving American flags. The Democratic Party was about to nominate Obama and here, standing before them, smiling and waving and giving the thumbs-up, was a man many believed they might not see again on such a prominent stage.
“This is what we do,’’ Kennedy declared. “We reach the moon. We scale the heights. I know it. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. And we can do it again.’’
A month later, he made it to Obama’s inauguration, only to collapse from exhaustion at the luncheon afterward.
In recent weeks, as Kennedy’s health declined, Dodd recalled conversations in which his friend could barely speak. Kennedy continued to sail off Hyannis Port but was confined to a wheelchair and needed a golf cart to reach the dock near his home.
“You have sort of mixed feelings,’’ said Gerard Doherty, a longtime friend who worked on Kennedy’s first Senate campaign. “Toward the end, it would be an understatement to say he wasn’t himself. He was a quick study and he knew better than anybody that he wasn’t functioning well. So it’s sad.’’
Kennedy had been battling cancer for more than a year, but family members and aides only began discussing funeral plans earlier this week. On Tuesday night, relatives summoned a priest. The family gathered by Kennedy, weeping, said the Rev. Patrick Tarrant, a priest at Our Lady of Victory Church who ministered to the family for years.
“The truth is, he had expressed to his family that he did want to go,’’ Tarrant told WCVB-TV yesterday. “He did want to go to heaven. He did want to die. . . . He was ready to go.’’
Matt Viser of the Globe staff contributed to this report. Michael Levenson can be reached at mlevenson@globe.com. 
