Liv Aune

Liv Robertstad Aune died on August 11, 2016 while hospitalized at NYU Langone Medical Center following a period of illness. She was 84.

A memorial service will be held on Saturday, Aug. 13, 2016 at 7:30 PM at the Virginia Funeral Chapel, 1707 Hylan Blvd., Staten Island, NY. The family will receive friends at the funeral home from 6:00 PM until the time of the service as well as following the service up to 9:00 PM. A viewing will also be held during this same time period.

Though a longtime resident on Staten Island, Mrs. Aune was born in Tonsberg, Norway where she grew up and attended high school. She subsequently attended the University of Oslo and obtained her diploma (degree) before moving to the United States to take a position working for a Norwegian steamship company with offices in Manhattan. While employed with Leif Hoegh A/S in New York she met her future husband on a blind date arranged by her manager. Following marriage, she settled down as a homemaker and raised two children with her husband in the Shore Acres section of Staten Island.

Mrs. Aune was a dedicated and loving mother and spouse who actively participated in community affairs. Among her noteworthy achievements was the campaign to fund and construct the new P.S. 13 that was built in Rosebank and serving as secretary and committee member on the Norwegian War Sailors Association (NY Chapter).

Mrs. Aune, the daughter of the late Ove and Hilborg Robertstad, was the loving wife for 58 years of Olav. She was also the beloved mother of Bjorn and Vigdis, and leaves two sisters, Eva and May, and one brother, Dag, along with 28 nieces and nephews.

Arrangements under the direction of Virginia Funeral Chapel, Staten Island, NY.

Death is Nothing

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that was so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It was the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.

All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!