Centenarian ailing, grieving after losing husband of 82 years

ST. LOUIS -- Over an astounding 82 years of marriage, George and Amelia Limpert seldom were apart. Even when he first cast eyes on her the year after World War I ended, he drilled a hole in the factory wall between them so he could watch her work.

As centenarians with grandchildren who themselves are grandparents, they held hands. Though there were reports some couples had been married even longer around the globe, folks who marveled at the Limperts got the same response from George: Amelia always was the prettiest gal he'd ever seen.

So since George died January 23 of complications from pneumonia at age 102 and was buried last week, 100-year-old Amelia has anguished to rejoin her soul mate, daughter Mary Ruth Fink says. Nearly blind, Amelia now fights pneumonia herself.

It seems time can't heal losing someone she loved for so long.

"She isn't taking it well, not at all," Fink, 69, said Sunday as her mom rested at Little Sisters of the Poor retirement center. "She's not crying or carrying on. She's just sad and feels like she's dying. She says that when dad left it felt like it left a hole.

"She feels like she wants to go, too. I would miss her terribly, but I want the best for her. If that's what she really wanted, that's what I want. If she verbalized that, I would tell her to go."

It's a love story dating to 1919, when George was a machinist in hometown St. Louis at a plant that made paint spray guns and lamp guards. Amelia Kwiatkowski was a teenager from Pennsylvania working the assembly line.

George knew -- at least hoped -- she would be his wife, though Amelia's family from the get-go had other ideas. Her immigrant parents didn't want their Polish daughter marrying George the German, saying he wasn't "from the Old Country" and of their nationality, Fink says.

Three times, their engagement was broken off before they finally jumped into his Model T and eloped Sept. 9, 1921, spending $8 on a marriage certificate and a civil ceremony with a justice of the peace in nearby Clayton.

A month later, the devout Catholics had a formal marriage ceremony. He was 20, she an 18-year-old woman who had only a third-grade education but taught herself to read and write.

During the Great Depression, the Limperts struggled. George, out of work most of the time, took odd jobs making parts for old cars, painting houses and fixing faulty plumbing. The couple raised nine children in a one-bedroom home where the five girls and four boys slept in an attic of "wall-to-wall beds," says Fink.

The Limperts lost an infant son in 1941 and another son to lung cancer in 1988. During World War II, four of the Limperts' sons went into the armed services; one never came home. Joseph Limpert died as a 19-year-old Marine on Iwo Jima.

George went on to work as a machinist at the Chain of Rocks Water Works, rose to foreman and retired in the mid-1960s at age 65 after 24 years on the job.

All the while, the Limperts never stopped doting on a brood that has blossomed over the years. There are seven surviving sons and daughters, along with 39 grandchildren, 117 great-grandchildren, 45 great-great-grandchildren and eight great-great-great-grandchildren.

When it comes to explaining the Limperts' longevity, theories abound. George opined last year that "you have to cooperate with one another," noting that "everybody has faults." Said Amelia: "You can't disagree about everything; it would never work."

For sure, Fink said, "they had their times when mom wanted to shake the stuffings out of dad." But love conquered all. To Fink, the "very kissy, sweet" Amelia was the picture of patience who never argued with George and "let him talk and talk and talk," even at times when "it was like he didn't want to admit she was right."

Even in his golden years, George spryly still "did everything on the fly," quickly fixing anything broken or amiss. He fancied playing Pinochle, attended St. Louis Cardinals and Rams games and scoured the newspaper's sports section for scores, no eyeglasses required.

More than anything, perhaps they were examples of how to do things right. Case in point: Fink last September celebrated her 50th wedding anniversary.