I have this morbid habit of reading the obituaries over lunch. Weird I know. Anyway, this was a love story that was just so sweet, it literally brought me to tears. So...I wanted to share it. A couple who couldn't live -- or die -- apart Dennis Rivelli followed his beloved wife, Ruth, to eternal bliss -- about a day later. June 28, 2001 By ROBIN HINCH
The Orange County Register Dennis and Ruth Rivelli exemplified the saying that opposites attract. He was quiet, gentle and self-assured, a businessman who knew how to move merchandise, keep employees and satisfy customers. Ruth -- or Ruthie, as he called her -- had a tougher exterior, but inside was quite insecure. She needed Dennis to be there, take care of things, reassure her about everything from the style of her hair to the shade of her lipstick. Ruth could be difficult and demanding. She wanted things Ruthie's way. Dennis asked for little, rarely complained and never had a harsh word for anyone. He catered to Ruth's every whim. They were inseparable. "Dear Ruthie," he wrote on their 53rd wedding anniversary, "my dear friend, wife and wonderful mother. I love you till the end of time." And that was their favorite song, "Till the End of Time," sung by Perry Como. Even when Dennis was ill with lung cancer, he would struggle out of bed to help his Ruthie, who had heart trouble. Ruth was 72 when she died June 22. Dennis was 76 when he died the following day. Ruth Giannini was only 16 when the two Chicago natives met at a family summer cottage on a lake in northern Illinois. Dennis had just returned from Army service in World War II. They dated for two years before marrying in 1947. During their courtship, Dennis would sometimes spend the night on Ruth's family's couch and would leave early, jotting her love notes in lipstick on the toilet-paper roll for her to find when she arose and unrolled the paper. With his brother Joe, Dennis owned Dennis Clothes for Men in Skokie, Ill., where Dennis and Ruth lived in an upstairs duplex. The store offered only the finest Italian lines of men's clothing, giving Dennis a lifelong taste for quality clothes. Together they created a warm, loving household for their four children -- one where their friends were welcome any time, especially at holidays. Many called the Rivellis their second parents. They were a handsome couple -- Dennis with his olive skin, jet-black hair, sharp- looking suits and delicate soft-leather Italian shoes with pointy toes, and Ruth with her red hair professionally coifed twice a week and her stunning suits and dresses. She was always dressed to the nines. The two of them vied for closet space. And they were a proud and private couple -- not letting on to others if they were troubled, walking tall and always putting their best foot forward. Dennis was the picture of calm. Ruth was quite the contrary, upset by the least little glitch in routine. Spontaneity was not her hallmark, and when unexpected things arose, Dennis had to do a lot of soothing. She was an expert in old movies -- there wasn't a star from the '20s or '30s Ruth couldn't name. Dennis got a kick out of cutesy expressions. "Ciao for now," he'd say instead of goodbye. In a restaurant, he'd order "fry-fries" instead of french fries. He called Ruth his "poopacotcha." Family vacations -- for 10 consecutive years, the kids will tell you, rolling their eyes -- were driving trips to Gettysburg, Pa., Asbury Park, N.J., and Niagara Falls. Needless to say, none of the kids honeymooned at Niagara Falls. When their children grew up and moved west, Dennis and Ruth for years spent summers with them in Orange County and finally decided to join them here five years ago. One longstanding family joke was that Ruth was prompt to the second and Dennis was always late. It was one thing that could get her yelling. "You with your hair!" she'd holler to Dennis as he combed the last hair into place. "Always lookin' in the mirror. Would you get out to the car? We're going to be late!" And even in death, Dennis was a bit behind schedule. Sharing a room at Fountain Care Center and both dying and semicomatose, Ruth took her last breath 30 hours before Dennis. "You'd better hurry, Dad," the kids joked. "Mom's waiting for you again -- up there in heaven."

-- (in@the.news), June 28, 2001

Answers

*Groan*..will try to clean up a bit

A couple who couldn't live -- or die -- apart Dennis Rivelli followed his beloved wife, Ruth, to eternal bliss -- about a day later.

Dennis and Ruth Rivelli exemplified the saying that opposites attract.

He was quiet, gentle and self-assured, a businessman who knew how to move merchandise, keep employees and satisfy customers.

Ruth -- or Ruthie, as he called her -- had a tougher exterior, but inside was quite insecure. She needed Dennis to be there, take care of things, reassure her about everything from the style of her hair to the shade of her lipstick.

Ruth could be difficult and demanding. She wanted things Ruthie's way.

Dennis asked for little, rarely complained and never had a harsh word for anyone.

He catered to Ruth's every whim. They were inseparable.

"Dear Ruthie," he wrote on their 53rd wedding anniversary, "my dear friend, wife and wonderful mother. I love you till the end of time." And that was their favorite song, "Till the End of Time," sung by Perry Como.

Even when Dennis was ill with lung cancer, he would struggle out of bed to help his Ruthie, who had heart trouble.

Ruth was 72 when she died June 22. Dennis was 76 when he died the following day.

Ruth Giannini was only 16 when the two Chicago natives met at a family summer cottage on a lake in northern Illinois. Dennis had just returned from Army service in World War II.

They dated for two years before marrying in 1947. During their courtship, Dennis would sometimes spend the night on Ruth's family's couch and would leave early, jotting her love notes in lipstick on the toilet-paper roll for her to find when she arose and unrolled the paper.

With his brother Joe, Dennis owned Dennis Clothes for Men in Skokie, Ill., where Dennis and Ruth lived in an upstairs duplex.

The store offered only the finest Italian lines of men's clothing, giving Dennis a lifelong taste for quality clothes.

Together they created a warm, loving household for their four children -- one where their friends were welcome any time, especially at holidays.

Many called the Rivellis their second parents.

They were a handsome couple -- Dennis with his olive skin, jet-black hair, sharp- looking suits and delicate soft-leather Italian shoes with pointy toes, and Ruth with her red hair professionally coifed twice a week and her stunning suits and dresses. She was always dressed to the nines. The two of them vied for closet space.

And they were a proud and private couple -- not letting on to others if they were troubled, walking tall and always putting their best foot forward.

Dennis was the picture of calm. Ruth was quite the contrary, upset by the least little glitch in routine. Spontaneity was not her hallmark, and when unexpected things arose, Dennis had to do a lot of soothing.

She was an expert in old movies -- there wasn't a star from the '20s or '30s Ruth couldn't name. Dennis got a kick out of cutesy expressions.

"Ciao for now," he'd say instead of goodbye. In a restaurant, he'd order "fry-fries" instead of french fries. He called Ruth his "poopacotcha."

Family vacations -- for 10 consecutive years, the kids will tell you, rolling their eyes -- were driving trips to Gettysburg, Pa., Asbury Park, N.J., and Niagara Falls.

Needless to say, none of the kids honeymooned at Niagara Falls.

When their children grew up and moved west, Dennis and Ruth for years spent summers with them in Orange County and finally decided to join them here five years ago.

One longstanding family joke was that Ruth was prompt to the second and Dennis was always late. It was one thing that could get her yelling.

"You with your hair!" she'd holler to Dennis as he combed the last hair into place. "Always lookin' in the mirror. Would you get out to the car? We're going to be late!"

And even in death, Dennis was a bit behind schedule.

Sharing a room at Fountain Care Center and both dying and semicomatose, Ruth took her last breath 30 hours before Dennis.

"You'd better hurry, Dad," the kids joked. "Mom's waiting for you again -- up there in heaven."

-- (in@the.news), June 28, 2001.

Thanks for re-formatting this Cin.

-- You (know@who.com), June 28, 2001.

and GOD will wipe away all tears. every soul that ever lived will [eventually] be restored to GODS original plan.---too bad that for 1300 years the [TRUE] MESSAGE=GOSPEL,HASN,T BEEN HEARD!!GOSPEL=GOOD NEWS. even the most wicked of men will be saved[as] by fire=cleansing!! how sad that =[false]teachings make GOD out as a loser & puny satan as a winner!!when GOD made adam & eve=HE said they we're=good,but not yet=perfected.too get pure gold,it has to be put in the fire-to get rid of the dross.dross=sin,wickedness,iniquity. physical-death is not the end of the show-it,s just the beginning.

-- al-d. (dogs@zianet.com), June 29, 2001.