Mary Susan Isieza
Aug 23, 2023
Mary Susan Isieza was known by a number of names, none of which could have successfully served as an alias in the event that one of her adventures went terribly wrong; too many people knew her.
Mary, Susan, Sue and Aunt Sue were the most commonly used names. Her mother, Joyce, when in a very rare, playful mood, would call her Mary Susan. Her most immediate family called her Susan. Friends that Susan made in the years before she reached a majority usually called her Sue, and many of the people she befriended as an adult called her Mary. When Susan was a child in Manheim, Pa., her church pastor called her Mary, but pronounced it “Murray.” (Nobody blamed him because he was from Canada.) Did anybody ask her which name she preferred? Apparently, yes.
In the hospital room in the ICU where she spent the last several days of her life, there was a small whiteboard with a few fields designed to show pertinent information for, and about, the room’s occupant, such as “My Nurse Is:.” One of the fields said “Special Instructions:,” followed by “Call me Sue.” Perhaps that was a relief for anybody among her parade of visitors who struggled with her name, but the hospital staff continued to treat “Mary.”
Susan refused to make any acquaintances; she only had much-loved friends. She had the very rare quality of being able to appreciate everybody. If a person was a pillar of the community, or maybe was a little bit whacky, or a lot whacky, or had a few weaknesses, or was walking weakness incarnate, it didn’t matter. She loved you, valued you as a human being, treasured the time spent with you and made sure that you knew that she felt fortunate to have you as a friend. This was genuine and profoundly heartfelt. Which brings us to her cat.
Susan left behind a cat, Felix, who seemingly kept his charms well-hidden. He wasn’t friendly at all, didn’t like to be petted, refused to do comedy routines and had a penchant for (hypocritically) biting humans whose social skills fell outside the bell curve. She loved, adored and spoiled this cat. After she chose to be taken off of life support, she said that her only regret about the decision was that she would be leaving Felix. The hospital granted a special dispensation for a feline visit on the day before she died. The visit, and the knowledge that Felix would be well taken care of after her passing, greatly eased her mind.
Susan loved rock bands, such as Bon Jovi, Poison and Motley Crue, and their concerts. Road trips to anywhere (or better yet, nowhere) were very high on her list of favorite things to do. She was a big fan of just about anything that came out of a vending machine, especially coffee, recognizing that vending machine coffee can be the absolute best coffee in the world if the circumstances are right. All of these elements — the thrill of driving, the unknown elements that are a part of any road trip, the music blaring, laughing with whoever she was with for this adventure and the prospect of sustenance from whatever the rest area vending machines had to offer, including burnt hands from the uninsulated coffee cups — came together to create unadulterated, living-in-the-moment joy, and then great memories for quieter times.
Mary Susan (Conaway) Isieza was born March 31, 1972 in Lock Haven, Pa., and died Aug. 4, 2023 in Williamsport, Pa. She attained a high school diploma and an associate’s degree in accounting. Her most recent employment was as a night auditor for a hotel in Lamar, Pa.
She was preceded in death by her parents, William and Joyce (Packer) Conaway. She is survived by her brothers, Douglas (Elizabeth) Packer and George (Jessica) Conaway; and Felix, of course.
A memorial service will be held Saturday, Aug. 26, at 10 a.m., at Cedar Heights Brethren in Christ Church in Mill Hall. All are welcome to attend.