Hospitalized since July 10th, Pittsburgh Mayor, Bob O'Connor finally succumbed to lymphoma cancer Friday evening just before nine o'clock.  I'd been following the news updates on his condition closely.  Friday's newspapers listed his condition as "hour-to-hour" critical.  As Theresa and I were returning from a late dinner Friday night, church bells in the distance began to toll.  It was T who recognized what the bells meant for Pittsburgh.   I glanced at my watch.  It was 9:05 p.m.  He died at 8:55 p.m.

I was filled with such sadness for his family and all of Pittsburgh; my breath caught in the back of my throat as I sighed heavily and shook my head.  In the short six months since being sworn in, he succeeded in mobilizing this town in ways I haven't seen in decades.  Bob was everywhere during those six months -- you could see him walking the streets, driving his wife Judy to work, and appearing at crime scenes around town.  He wanted so much for Pittsburgh to shine for the All-Star game and it did. 

There's an old saying in Pittsburgh, one my Mother used to say to me on Saturday mornings, that Bob latched onto for Pittsburgh.  "We need to redd up."  Redd up meaning clean up.  Bob was such a 'Burgh boy and cared about this city from the very depths of his heart.  He had a vision for what it could become if only we had some hope and clear marching orders.  He began that project and took it great distances using a "can do" attitude and a warm smile.  The back-biting and politicking our city council had become enmeshed with was beginning to dissolve.  The firemen and police respected him for getting down into the trenches with them over the years as City Council President and then, Mayor.  He started the downtown building renaissance (three new developments will break ground over the next year in what has been rundown areas pocketed by urban blight).

His wife, Judy, is one of the most soft-spoken women you'd ever meet.  She's small, tiny really ... in stature and voice ... compared to Bob.  She was content to stand behind him in support.  I joked with her after Bob was elected Mayor ... calling her the "First Lady."  She was mortified about being in the spotlight.  "That's Bob's thing," she said, before proceeding to tell me how the Post-Gazette interview with her had gone the prior weekend.  She rarely left the hospital room and stood for hours this weekend as more than 9,000 Pittsburgher's filed past to pay their respects in the City County building.  A man I work with, Steve, told me she was still there last night at 9:30 p.m.

I met Judy through work and we used to spend lunch hours walking the streets of Pittsburgh to make our 10,000 steps.  She often told stories about Bob and there was always such a deep love in her eyes as she did; even when she was angry with him for golf plans when the grandkids were stopping over for a visit.  They were high school sweethearts. 

Today, as I stood in the line at Freyvogel Funeral Home in Shadyside to pay my last respects to Bob and give my support to Judy, I noticed all of the police and EMS staff attending his viewing.  They were obviously impacted emotionally by his passing.  It was as if we all moved through a veil of denial that this lively man was gone.  As people stood waiting, I could overhear snippets of stories -- tales of Bob and Judy and his family that will live on long after they place his body in the ground Thursday.

Father Terry O'Connor, Bob and Judy's priest son, stood with Judy and her other son and daughter a few feet from the open casket.  Terry looks so much like Bob and had the same warm greeting, even in this time of absolute sorrow.  Judy was strong and tired.  I didn't know what to say, really, knowing so many had passed before me in tribute to Bob and in support of her.  We hugged tightly and I kissed her cheek.  "I am sure going to miss him, Judy," was all I could manage.  She smiled weakly and said, "Yes, we are all surely going to miss him striding in, aren't we?"   Her eyes went to the ceiling of the funeral parlor and stopped there, lingering in memory. Mine followed, envisioning his playful stride and broad smile expanding across the beige ceiling tiles.  

Bob used to come in to see Judy or to say a special birthday "Hello" to someone on the staff and always behind him, his body guard -- a towering hulk of a man that nagged at him to put his flak jacket on (so oversized that it spent it's life in the squad car trunk before the tailor altered it for his small frame) or the time alotted until his next appointment.  He never went anywhere without one. 

His eyes twinkled with excitement and warmth and he greeted everyone with a firm handshake and a high energy-infused, friendly voice.  It was hard to stand before him today and utter one last farewell.  It was Bob alright but ... not Bob.  After one last glance at Judy and her family, I headed out to the gloomy Pittsburgh day, fighting back the tears and covering my quivering lips.  Many followed.

It seems trite to say Bob was a good man but in the end, that's just what he was.  He was a kind, caring, energetic soul that saw a beautiful new day on the horizon for Pittsburgh.  May God rest his soul and comfort his lifelong companion. 

Bob ... I am really going to miss you.  Heaven must need some serious redding up.