Picture was taken at JoAnn's Surprise 60th Birthday Party

The Croke Family would like to share their Eulogies with their family and friends online.

Written by her husband, John Croke:

    

  

   As a teenager I was introduced to JoAnn in March of 1965 by my deaf school buddy, Bill Walker, who lived 8 blocks north from my family home. Bill Walker asked me to do a favor for him by taking JoAnn to Holy Family Catholic Church in Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin.  I accepted! JoAnn first saw me and showed her beautiful smile. She was so excited to chat with me when we went to church together, but I had to tell her that I would take my parents & my sister, Marci.  I preferred to go alone with her, but my Dad was recovering from cancer so I had to drive the family along in our four door Ford sedan.

 

   The family car arrived at the Walker residence. I walked up to the front door ringing the bell, and was greeted by a smiling JoAnn.  She sat in the back seat with my mom & Marci as my Dad sat in the front passenger seat. We attended the church service and I led everyone to a pew in the middle of the church.  I sat between JoAnn and my dad.  He watched JoAnn and and handed his prayer book to her.  She gladly accepted it, and read it as the mass went on.

When the mass was over, JoAnn returned it to my Dad and quietly thanked him for using his prayer book. Before we got back to the family car, Dad called me by touching my back and told me to let JoAnn sit in the front passenger seat.  Dad preferred to sit in the back seat with mom and Marci. So, I drove JoAnn back to the Walker residence.  After that, I took my family back home to Shorewood. I ran into our home, changing from my Sunday's Best to something more casual.  Then, I raced back to the Walker residence for breakfast, and joined the fun with JoAnn, Bill Walker, and JoAnn's friend Sue.

 

   That was the only time my Dad met JoAnn, who became my girlfriend, lover, and later wife. Seven months later, my Dad died from colon cancer.   When JoAnn learned about my dad's passing away, she immediately sent my family a sympathy card.  My mom was so pleased to see the card.

 

   My dad lived with cancer for one year.  My beloved wife JoAnn whom I married on August 25, 1973, struggled with ovarian cancer for close to 18 years. It was very painful for me when she departed from our earth so she could meet my Dad, her Mother, and my Mom - in Heaven. My mom took care of my dad for one year, and I learned from this experience.  JoAnn fought for almost 18 years, but now we must let her go to be with God.  I have nothing more to say but to thank God for extending her life.  I was once told that she was expected to live less than 10 years.

 

    I am very grateful to JoAnn for raising our two sons from birth to becoming very respectable grown up men. She always loved all of us as a family. She was a wonderful wife, and mother and daughter of Joe Savage.  Many thanks to my father-in-law, Joe, for providing his love & support to JoAnn. She will always be terribly missed by all of us for the rest of our lives, but she will always be in our hearts as long as we live. God Bless JoAnn & our thanks to smiling JoAnn!  Some day we'll join her in our eternal life.

 

It is the hardest good-bye for me to say to JoAnn as she enters her new journey.

 

Please watch and protect us as our angel.  We love you.

Written by her oldest son, Peter Croke:

    

  

   Sometimes life's most important lessons come at the most inopportune, trying, and emotionally upsetting times.  My mom did the absolute best job she could to raise her sons to be upstanding men.  At times, at least as far as my experience goes, some of these lessons were learned through extreme opposition and intense disagreement with each other.  It was no secret to the four of us that Mom and I didn't see eye to eye on a multitude of things.  Through countless heated discussions, that to the outside observer may have raised some concern, forged the greatest lesson my mother passed onto me: acceptance.

 

   I know it probably sounds crazy, but some of the fondest memories I have of my mom come from our passionate way of communicating.  It often got loud and full of colorful language, but there was always an unspoken respect and admiration for one another. Our intense verbal debates were full of love.

 

   No one topic got me more riled up than the subject of her health.  Everyone had an opinion on what course of action she should pursue, and you can be certain I had mine.  I was under the impression that my arguments were purely out of love.  Of course, they were, but I now realize there was a vital part I had been missing out on, or perhaps even chose to ignore.  About six months ago, with my patience wearing thin, I began to think of the things I had done through the course of my life that wore HER patience thin, and provoked spirited discussion between us.

 

For example:

 

   1.  In Jr High, I decided to cover my bedroom walls with pictures of heavy metal musicians from every single rock and roll magazine I owned.  This did very little to please my mother, and in fact probably scared her to see her son idolizing longhaired, tattooed, dingy looking musicians.  

 

   2.  I'm sure my Aunt Marcie could tell you all about this one too.  Between the ages of 10-14 I had an unhealthy obsession with purchasing fireworks from any neighborhood dads who would buy them for me, in hopes of dazzling all the neighborhood kids.... ok Mom... I'll give you that one.  That was a horrible idea.  She stepped in and confiscated them every year.. well.. most of them at least.

 

   3.  My senior year of high school I thought it was a great idea to grow my hair out, then shave everything but my bangs, and then dye the bangs blonde.  This made her extremely upset with me as we discussed whether or not the $20 I paid for said haircut was worthwhile.

 

   4.  Upon graduating college and settling in on a decent paying job, I told my mom I would be purchasing a van so I could haul my friends across the United States for 2-4 weeks at a time while we played music for little to no money each night. This one REALLY got her going and was always a topic of impassioned debate, and were also the ones I enjoyed most.  

 

   Now, I completely realize some of this is trivial in comparison to bigger issues.  However, some of these discussions and things I believed in meant a lot to me.  She always knew what they were, and unconditionally accepted them.  That didn't mean she didn't get her two cents in, but at the end of the day, she knew it was what I wanted and she was behind that 100%.  That got me thinking... how often did I really make the effort to ask her what SHE wanted?  I decided then that I would no longer decide to force my will and beliefs upon her, but accept her choices and be able to look her in the eyes and be completely OK with that.  It took some time, but through that love and respect my mom showed to me time and time again, I came to appreciate this newfound idea of acceptance.  That's not to say I don't already sorely miss a good argument with her.  But rest assured Mom, when we meet again, I'm certain we'll have plenty to talk about.

Written by her youngest son, Ryan Croke:

    

  

   Like her smile, her eyes and her personality, my mother's voice was distinctive and beautiful. Maybe I miss it already because it was like nobody else's, and I feel I understood and appreciated it as few others did.

 

   The variety of sounds, cadences, and yes, volumes Mom produced as she spoke were a marvel. With a rich set of communication tools at her command, she was a skilled conversationalist and a patient listener. She performed brilliant impersonations. She sang songs. She laughed heartily. Indeed, her voice remained strong even as her body slowly failed.

 

   I loved that with just a single phrase like "Oh my goodness," or "Oh my Lord" she could express cheer, empathy, amusement, disapproval and any number of other emotions I always understood.

 

   For all of these qualities, she was consistently humble. When Pete and I gave her credit for small victories in our lives, she hesitated to accept it. "Your father and I do our best," she'd say.

 

   It's tempting to wish for the comforting music of Mama's voice again but I hope all of us here today (even those who are deaf) and I will always hear what she said. Like all good mothers, I suppose, my mom's voice is imbued in my conscience. Allow me to illustrate with a short story:

 

   In my first college job interview, sitting in a cramped office in an unfamiliar place, someone on a panel of three asked me to offer the best advice I'd ever received. I paused, racing in my mind to produce something memorable -- a witty quotation from Barlett, maybe, or a timeless Biblical proverb.

 

   Instead, in a moment of clarity, I offered a familiar refrain from Mom. "Be good," I said.

 

   Mom reminded me so often, sometimes exclaimed it, in conversations and in letters and emails, and it became a clear signal through the sometimes confusing moral terrain of boyhood, adolescence and early adulthood. "Be good." "Be good" is the best advice I've received.

 

   (As I learned last night, this expression was popularized in the movie E.T. and has surely been used by mothers before my own.)

 

   But in just twelve words, with Mom's example, I can try to explain what it means to me. These are the values Mom helped me appreciate, and they're at the heart of "being good". Here goes:

 

   Sharing, Communication, Laughter, Patience, Forgiveness, Rest, Sensitivity, Concern, Courtesy, Stubbornness, Courage

 

   Most important, Unconditional Love -- Mom loved Peter and me no matter what mistakes we made, and she put our interests before her own.

 

   She and Dad gave us a life filled with love and opportunity. My dreams for my career, for my marriage, and for my life are shaped by her example, her sorrow and her joy. Every day, I will hear her voice, follow her steady call, and let her continue to inform the way I view the world and the way I treat people.

 

   Her honest, unwavering, affirming love, her voice, and its gentle message of goodness rests at the center of my moral compass. Because I felt a special understanding of my mother’s voice, I feel responsible to carry her message forward. So be good, and love each other.

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