Outpouring of respect for Chicago’s Virginia McCaskey shows how many lives she touched

DES PLAINES, Ill. — They came in droves to say goodbye to the daughter of George Halas, the matriarch of the Chicago Bears.

The wake for Virginia Halas McCaskey — Mrs. McCaskey to all who were not kin — was open to the public on Tuesday, and there were so many mourners that they had to park a block away at Mystic Waters Family Aquatic Center.

The funeral home couldn’t fit everyone, so they were directed to a holding area in a tent where the line snaked around like airport security on a Monday morning. The wait was two hours as soon as the doors opened, and it kept getting longer, maybe twice as long.

What a fascinating mix it was. There were men wearing necklaces with crosses around clerical collars, bent-over nuns with canes, billionaires in bright, custom-made blazers and designer sneakers, working people with calloused hands and dirt under their fingernails, die-hards wearing Bears jerseys and Starter jackets and some of their heroes, including Cole Kmet, DJ Moore and Rome Odunze.

Her father’s game can do to relationships what butchers do to chickens. But front-office workers, coaches and players who left the Bears with bitterness returned with hugs and memories.

Lovie Smith and Ben Johnson were in the congregation at St. Emily’s Church for the private funeral mass the next day. It was Smith who convinced Mrs. McCaskey to share her experiences for the first time in the early 2000s and she began a tradition of addressing the players annually with stories about the team’s history, of which she witnessed 100 years. It is Johnson who is willed to carry her hopes of a return to glory.

Family, friends and the NFL community came together yesterday to pay their respects to the remarkable life of Virginia Halas McCaskey.

— Chicago Bears (@ChicagoBears) February 13, 2025

Some of the players who heard her speeches were there, as were others she told stories about.

The 2006 Super Bowl team was represented by Mike Brown, Matt Forte, Robbie Gould, Tommie Harris, Israel Idonije, Charles Tillman and Brian Urlacher.

From the iconic ’85 Bears were Richard Dent, Gary Fencik, Leslie Frazier, Emery Moorehead, Dan Hampton, Tyrone Keys, Tom Thayer and Otis Wilson.

Even the ’63 champions had a representative, 87-year-old Bob Wetoska.

Connie Payton and Joy Piccolo O’Connell were there, too.

It was fitting given she touched every generation of the team, from Red Grange to Caleb Williams.

Roger Goodell came. So did Tom Ricketts, Toni Preckwinkle and Pat Ryan.

Duke Tobin, the Bengals architect who drafted Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase, was there. He was a ball boy for the Bears when his late father, Bill, was in charge of personnel in the 1980s. Among the NFL owners who paid respects were Michael Bidwill, Mike Brown, Robert and Jonathan Kraft, John Mara, Mark Murphy and John York.

There must have been 31 floral arrangements from NFL teams, many displaying their colors. And there were many more wreaths and bouquets, so many that even the vestibule smelled like springtime.

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Then there was the family — eight sons and daughters, 20 grandchildren, 40 great grandchildren and even four great great grandchildren. Hardly anyone could tell them apart without nametags, which is why they wore them. Each started with the word “Favorite” and then said who they were, as in “Favorite granddaughter Michelle.” She made every one of them feel that way. Take it from her grandson James, who spoke at the funeral of Grandma attending his high school homecoming football game.

They wore custom-made pins in the shape of hearts. “VHM” was the inscription, and it was replicated from her handwriting which she used in many personal notes. A cross was below the initials. The pins were light blue, representing her devotion to Mother Mary.

For someone who actively avoided attention, this was quite an event. As her son Pat said at the funeral, she never sought praise; she only sought grace. Whenever she made a charitable donation — and she made hundreds, many of which were exceedingly generous — she insisted it be anonymous. For most of her life, she never spoke publicly. And before granting a rare interview, she almost had to have her arm twisted. Thankfully, her son George was good at that.

So how did she impact so many?

She will not be known for sporting innovations or conquests as her father was.

What she will be remembered for is humanity.

The game she was associated with can be vile. It takes knees, brains and even souls. As the NFL drifted further and further from compassion, she was an opposing force. Mostly by example but with words when necessary, she showed how to maintain priorities and perspective, and how to keep a light on.

As much as anyone, she demonstrated the power of a gentle spirit.

Mrs. McCaskey came from an era when players carpooled to practices and games, and the team held luncheons for players’ wives on off days so the men could stay home with the children. She was a reminder that some values should be perpetual.

Virginia Halas McCaskey’s legacy is her love for family & the Chicago Bears. pic.twitter.com/NFG5S3jU1j

— Chicago Bears (@ChicagoBears) February 8, 2025

And now, some personal reflections.

I helped Mrs. McCaskey write the foreword to a book. After interviewing her, I presented her with a draft. She reviewed it and had a request. She was bothered by the prevalence of the word “I.” It shouldn’t be about her, she said, even though it was. I tried to convince her that “I’s” were necessary but eventually conceded to remove 11 “I’s.” She had her father’s persuasiveness.

One evening, she gave a speech about faith and family in the basement chapel of a church. I went seeking personal enlightenment. After receiving it, I thanked her. Gracious but determined that her wisdom would be shared only intimately, she said, “Now, Dan, you know I’m not here as a public figure.”

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Seven years ago, I lost a loved one. Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. McCaskey, 94 at the time and using a walker, stood in line for more than an hour at the wake. In front of her was a pack of high school kids, friends of one of my children. Behind her was a group of patients who had bused there from a rehab center for drug and alcohol addiction.

“Hey, you’re the owner of the Bears,” they said. She was much more — a queen among commoners, gracefully at ease, uplifting us all.

So death brought us together again this week. As I looked at her lying there, it struck me that she lived the way many of us would like to, and transitioned that way as well.

No fall broke her hip and spirit, no disease ravaged her organs, no fog stole her reasoning. Her family members knew the time was near and had the opportunity to say what was in their hearts.

Mrs. McCaskey lived for 102 years and one month — not long enough for those who knelt before her but almost certainly long enough for her.

She left peacefully, asleep in her own bed, surely aware that because of her, the world she was departing was decidedly better than the one she came into.

(Photo: Jonathan Daniel / Getty Images)