Donald Malone

Donald J. Malone, born March 2, 1931, in Wichita, Kansas, died in the early hours of September 13, 2026. He died peacefully at the Wichita home he shared with his wife, Rosemary, for nearly 65 years. His six children—Monica, Theresa, Donald Jr., Susan, Maria, and Stephen—were with him in his final earthly hours, ensuring that he was shrouded in the love he so freely gave throughout his life.

Donald was a devoted husband, a caring father, and an adoring grandfather and great-grandfather.

He was also a poet.

Donald loved words. When compiling his poems into a book, he wrote about the joy he felt expressing his thoughts and feelings in lines that rhyme. He was always sincere, whether he was “expressing either a meandering thought or a heartfelt opinion.” Donald spent a lifetime finding the right words for the things that mattered most to him, which makes the task of writing about his 95 years especially difficult. As many words as there are, and as many as Donald used, there are simply not enough of them to capture a life as full as his.

Donald was born to Harold and Monica Malone, the second of six children. His older brother, Harold, came first, followed by Donald and then Nancy, Timothy, Michael, and Pat. He began writing poetry as a boy, long before he could have known just how much life he would eventually have to write about.

He built a beautiful life, but if Donald were telling the story himself, he would take very little credit. The glory would be God’s.

Donald’s faith guided everything he did, and Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church became one of the fixtures of his life. When the chapel first opened, Donald took the 3 to 4 a.m. adoration hour, quietly appearing when most of Wichita was fast asleep. He attended daily Mass for as long as his health allowed. Most importantly, his faith was never something he left at the door of the chapel or church. He carried it everywhere he went, and he lived it every day: through his family, through his service to others, and through the words he left behind.

Donald attended Cathedral High School, where he fell in love with his lifelong sweetheart, Rosemary. Throughout their lives together, any project she pursued—The Toy Box, home renovations, whatever it may be—was met with the full support of Donald. Because, according to Rosemary, “he could never tell me no.”

As an undergraduate at the University of Kansas, he was a founding member of the Scotchmen, a barbershop quartet whose members would become lifelong friends. After earning his undergraduate degree, Donald served for three years in the United States Air Force. In 1954, with the blessing of her father, Donald and Rosemary wed at Blessed Sacrament, where they were among the first couples to be married in the church.

Donald later earned his master’s degree from Wichita State University. In a family filled with lawyers, he chose a different path: geology. He taught geology at Wichita State before entering the oil industry, where he would spend weeks at a time out on the rigs, sometimes bringing his children along.

He loved the Jumble and Jeopardy. He loved to sing. He loved to whistle. He loved babies—a fact clear to anyone who saw the smile that naturally spread across his face when one was placed in his arms. He loved to garden, and Donald could often be found kneeling in the dirt in his backyard, where he grew tomatoes his family remembers as the reddest, juiciest, most delicious tomatoes imaginable.

More than anything, though, Donald loved his family, which grew tremendously. Six children became 28 grandchildren, who became 51 great-grandchildren, with a story that continues to grow. For Donald, those numbers were not recited as an accomplishment. Family was not an achievement. It was a gift; something to be tended to, prayed for, cherished, and loved unconditionally.

That same instinct toward service extended beyond his home. Donald was an active member of the Serra Club, the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, and the Kansas Geological Society.

He also continued to write. Every Christmas from 1979 to 2017, a growing number of children and grandchildren would gather at Grandma Rosie and Grandpa Don’s house, and before any presents were opened, Donald would read that year’s original poem about the true meaning of Christmas.

In a poem dated October 2, 2009, Donald wrote:

“Let’s leave for our kids and all who we know

Our lives as we’ve lived them hoping they show

An example of love for our neighbor, our God

And thanks for this Earth we happily trod.”

Donald spent 95 years doing precisely what he wrote: leaving behind a life for his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family, and friends to look upon as an example. A life of faith and curiosity. Of music and poetry. Of service and work. Of gardens and tomatoes and babies held tight. Of a smile freely given. And, above all, he leaves behind a home that for six and a half decades embodied love—love for God, love for family, and love for a life so beautifully lived.

No Better Life was the title of his father’s memoir. It is equally fitting for Donald.

Donald was preceded in death by his parents, his brothers and sister, and his grandson William.

He is survived by Rosemary, his wife of 72 years; his six children, Monica Malone, Theresa Murphy (Kenneth), Donald Malone, Jr. (Kerrie), Susan Dorsey (Mike), Maria Unruh (Greg), and Stephen Malone (Carol); 27 grandchildren; 51 great-grandchildren—all part of a loving family that has grown so large that its final tally is years, if not generations, away from being known.

And if there is one final thing Donald would want everyone he loved to remember, there is little doubt what it would be:

Don’t forget to say your prayers.

Rosary will be at 10:00 am, Funeral Mass will be at 10:30 am, Friday September 18, 2026, at Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church. The service will be live streamed through the church’s YouTube page.

A memorial has been established with the St. Vincent de Paul Society at Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church, 124 N. Roosevelt St. Wichita, KS 67208.

Services in care of Downing & Lahey East Mortuary.