Our family lost a great lady when my brother Joe’s wife passed away. Her impact on all of us for the past six and a half decades has been immense. Pauline grew up in Rennerdale, was educated at Clark High School in Scott Township, trained in secretarial science at Robert Morris, and was working at Duquesne Light when Joe was hired there in 1959. Two years later they were married; they shared a wonderful life together for over sixty-three years.
Joe had worked for Dravo Corporation’s Contracting Division during the three summers of his undergraduate career at Penn State, as a field engineer participating in the original construction of the massive ALCOSAN interceptor sewer network. When he graduated, he was a very attractive candidate for employment. Although Dravo wanted to hire him permanently, this experience convinced him he should consider other options. Chicago Bridge and Iron recruited him heavily for their Greenville, Pa. office. Fortunately, he also received an attractive offer from Duquesne Light which he accepted, serendipitously resulting in his meeting Pauline.
Are true marriages “made in Heaven”? My religious friends believe so. Or are they just one more random act that occurred accidently, as my anti-religious, scientific friends believe? If there ever were two people meant to be together, it was Joe and Pauline. Whether pre-ordained or a random accident, the miracle of their finding each other has resulted in a life together that has greatly enhanced the lives of everyone privileged to know them. It is indeed difficult to believe that this was an accident.
Pauline’s accomplishments as a mother are exemplified by their four children, each outstanding adults with families of their own. My wife and I had the privilege of watching their children grow up, in lockstep with our three; we were full of admiration for the way they were reared. The biggest crisis Joe and Pauline faced as young parents was a particularly difficult period when Joe was sequestered in a Duquesne Light powerplant for seven weeks during a strike, leaving Pauline alone to cope with four tiny (the eldest was three and a half years old) children.
Once their children left home and began their own families, Pauline became a role model as a grandmother. It is a blessing that all her grandchildren had many years to be recipients of her love; I am sure their hearts are heavy now. I hope they realize how fortunate they are to have known her so well. When Joe retired, he and Pauline took full advantage of the chance to enjoy their free time. They travelled extensively, in our country as well as abroad. They loved their winter vacations in Florida. Nonetheless they found time to serve others close to home. It would be easy to believe that, second only to concern about her own family, Pauline’s primary thought each day was “Who needs our help today? Who is ill and needs support? Who is discouraged and needs encouragement?” The list of adjectives that best describe her include thoughtful, empathetic, pro-active, and sensitive.
As I write this, I realize that it isn’t solely about Pauline. Fairly early in their marriage, Joe and Pauline morphed into “JoeandPauline”, a synergistic merger of two individuals into one entity, with a common mind and a common soul. It was interesting to note how many times Reverend Janssen used that term in his eulogy during the funeral service. Unless you have experienced this state, it is difficult to understand it. When my wife died, people were concerned I would miss her terribly. I certainly did, but what I missed most of all was the dissolution of the entity that we had become. Several other widowers I know understand exactly what I mean.
I have never been completely comfortable with the custom of “viewing” at the funeral home, although I do understand its value to the survivors in knowing that so many other people share their grief. Joe spent four solid hours greeting friends and extended family, all of them attempting to communicate how much knowing Pauline had meant to them. Those of us who believe that our primary purpose in life is to positively enhance life for others recognize the remarkable success of Pauline’s life with us.
The funeral service at Bethany Church was perfectly appropriate, even down to including my father’s favorite bit of scripture (Ecclesiastes 3), “For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; …..” This is a time for us to mourn as well as a time for us to rejoice at our good fortune for having been part of Pauline’s life.
The different ways different cultures treat death is interesting. I am comfortable with ours, though some of the individual rituals may not always seem appropriate. A funeral should be tasteful, but not ostentatious. Lovely displays of flowers at the funeral home do help create a welcoming environment. Somehow I preferred the tradition when they were picked by someone we knew at Godwins’ Greenhouse to one in which the are semi-automatically ordered from a “flowers.com” website.
Pauline’s health had steadily declined for the past year; too frequently she was in severe pain. In that respect, it is a blessing that her suffering has ended. Intellectually we can celebrate her long, productive, and happy life and the way she enhanced the lives of so many people, and convince ourselves that it was time for her to pass on. That works for me for a while, but eventually my emotions overcome my logic and I feel a terrible loss; I suspect we all do.