Mary Louise Eising Obituary

Mary Louise Eising, 93, of Quincy, died at 2:36 a.m. Saturday (March 5, 2016) in Blessing Hospital. Born August 10, 1922 in Quincy, Mary was the daughter of William and Agnes Zimmerman Roehl. She married John N. "Norbert" Eising on April 1, 1944 in Quincy. He preceded her in death on October 31, 2010. Mary was a member of St. Peter Catholic Church where she had been active with the school and Girl Scouts. She was also a member of the Elks Lodge 100 and the Gabber's Lunch Club. Mary enjoyed playing cards and board games and was a baseball fan, rooting for the St. Louis Cardinals. She loved to travel, wintering in Florida for many years and she especially loved going to visit and spending time with her family. Mary devoted her life to raising her family and had worked as a telephone operator for Illinois Bell Telephone, a clerk for Carson Pirie Scott and then as a realtor for many years in Quincy until her retirement.Survivors include a son, John N. Eising Jr. of Freeburg, MO; three daughters, Shari Borlin ( Dr. David) of Chesterfield, MO, Kay Kayser (Jim) of Quincy and Deborah Ann Eising of Quincy; eight grandchildren, John Eising III, Sean Eising, Shelley Rushing (David), Jon Borlin (Vicki), Scott Borlin (Kerri), Jeff Borlin (Amy), Dr. Casey Kayser and Christy Kayser Arrazattee (Andrew); thirteen great grandchildren, Tyler, Jonathan, Kyle, Maxx, Tobi, Reese, Shelby, Jake, Charlie, Lilly, Lucas, Lucy and Clara Grace; a sister, Betty Hochgraber of Quincy; and many loving nieces and nephews. Mary was preceded in death by her parents; her husband, Norbert; a daughter in law, Diana Eising; a brother, Richard Roehl; and a brother in law, Wes Hochgraber. Services will be held Friday morning at 9:30 in the Zehender Robinson Stormer Cookson Funeral Home and a Mass of Christian Burial at 10:00 in St. Peter Catholic Church by Monsignor Leo Enlow. Burial will be in Sunset Cemetery in Quincy. Visitation will be Thursday evening from 4:00 to 6:00 and Friday morning until the time of services at the funeral home.

Whether it be wintering in Florida with Grandpa and their friends, as they did for so many years, traveling to California or Colorado to visit relatives or friends, or meeting for breakfast at the Village Inn, fried chicken night at the Elks Lodge, playing slots at Mark Twain Casino, or heading to a family member’s house for dinner or a holiday, she wanted to be involved, to be a part of it all, to be with everyone and a part of everything happening all the time. She had a beautifully severe case of what many of us call FOMO, the fear of missing out. She loved life, and she has inspired that attitude in many of us. We celebrated her 93rd birthday last August, thanks to my cousins Jon and Vicki who hosted and everyone who traveled and came out to make this birthday special for her. It was a tropical theme, we drank margaritas in the pool, wore leis and coconuts, threw beach balls. Thanks to our family friend Jeremy Friedman, we also enjoyed a pretty awesome fireworks show, one that provoked cranky neighbors and maybe even a near arrival by the police. Nothing was too much for our mom, grandma, great-grandma’s 93rd birthday. She loved fireworks, and it was an incredibly special show and party in her honor.

She loved her family, and was so proud of us: her children, Shari, Kay, John, and Debbie, and their children, partners and spouses, friends, and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She and Grandpa were always present at graduations, dance recitals, plays, and sporting events. Just as she always knew and beamed with pride when someone got a promotion or took first place, she was equally attuned to our welfare and concerned about us in the face of hurricanes, tornadoes, and snow storms in our various geographical areas, thanks to her vigilant attention to the Weather Channel.

In addition to her fun spirit, my grandmother was incredibly gracious. She was, to the end, a lady. Those of you who know me know that I don’t necessarily buy into traditional gender conventions, but something about the way in which she carried herself has always left an impression on me. I know she was raised in a different time, a time when gender roles were more decidedly marked. She both followed the rules and broke the mold, in all the right ways, and her example has inspired me. She always smiled at strangers and friends, was grateful for their kindnesses, and thanked them profusely. In her final days in the hospital, she was so grateful for all of the family and friends who visited her, constantly telling us how much she appreciated it. She also asked for someone to bring a curling iron to fix her hair, apologizing for the mess it must look. I never saw a nurse or healthcare practitioner come into the room that she didn’t thank or apologize to for the trouble they were going to for her. In fact, we soon came to realize that these practitioners seemed touched by her presence as well, later hugging the family and expressing such sentiments as “We just love her,” and even “I don’t know why she was put on the earth 93 years ago, but she has been an inspiration to me.” It pleased us as a family to know she had touched others in such a brief time, just as she has all of us. We’d like to thank the amazing nurses, doctors, and healthcare practitioners who cared for her during this time, Marilyn, Trista, I wish I knew all their names, as well as thank my Aunt Debbie Eising, who after her retirement came to live with Grandma part time to provide companionship and care.

I should also say, in return, Grandma offered whatever she had to others always, whether it be a stick of gum or tic-tac out of her purse, or money, even when she couldn’t afford it. She always wanted to be helpful. At family dinners, even with limited mobility, she wanted a task, happily filling salt and pepper shakers, or arranging the relish tray. She’d give whatever she could…but maybe not an undeserved win at Uno. But this form of femininity, of lady-hood, her form, I’ll take it. Always gracious, generous, and appreciative, but strong-willed, with spunk and a fierce sense of independence, the fight to come out on top. I only hope that at my 93rd birthday, I’ll be wearing a lei, drinking a margarita, and that it’s so wild someone might call the cops.

We love you, Grandma.