6,200 people have died from COVID-19 in Wisconsin. Here are stories of some we've lost.

Anne Heine’s daughters lived near her and saw her regularly, but she would still talk with them by phone almost every day, often several times a day.

“She always had the insight into how everybody else was doing in the family,” said daughter Kate Dale, of Fitchburg. “She was the hub.”

For 28 years, Janet Schieldt worked as a teacher’s aide at Lowell Elementary School in Madison. She was also active in the education of her three children.

“She was on the PTA, she went on all the field trips, she made all the cupcakes,” said daughter Mary Jo Schieldt, of Madison.

John Fleck was known for his huge batches of chili.

“I can’t even tell you how many cans of beans and tomatoes he would put in there,” said his wife, Pam. “He would always make way more than we could eat. That was always a reason to invite neighbors over, or friends.”

Steve Uttech was born with a hearing impairment and couldn’t make out people’s voices, but he could read lips and sing along with others.

But when it came to “Happy Birthday,” he purposely bellowed the tune off key and out of sync with everyone else, said his daughter Karrie Uttech. It became a tradition that made everyone laugh.

Richard Grams had his home built on a wooded hill northeast of Deerfield, with enough land to add two houses for some of his children nearby.

He built Greater Insurance Service Corp., a Madison company he founded in 1974 that today has 18 other locations around Wisconsin.

As Dr. Timothy Donovan led his daughter and granddaughter on a lengthy hike near Tucson, Arizona, he stumbled and fell. The Madison doctor brushed himself off and insisted the group keep going so his granddaughter, 10 or 11 at the time, could experience success in the outdoors.

The next day, Donovan went to urgent care, where an X-ray revealed a fracture. “He had broken his wrist, but he didn’t say one word to anybody,” said his daughter, Kristin Nelson, who was with her daughter on the hike. “He wanted to give her a sense of accomplishment.”

Amedeo Lambert enjoyed the communal meals his mother organized on Sundays in the tradition of her native Italy.

“He was a social animal,” Mariapia Lambert said of her son. “By Thursday evening or Friday morning, he would ask, ‘Who’s joining us?’”

Bonnie Gerner made lefse and lemon meringue pies, but her reputation was tied to another treat.

“She was known as the ‘cream puff lady,’” said her daughter, Becky Sturdevant.

Growing up in Chicago, Lolita Dotson was 13 when her mother died. With her father not around, she relied on other family and friends for support.

By age 21, she had four children of her own. After some abusive relationships, she moved to Madison.

Martha Peterson was a “pretty simple person” who enjoyed gardening and sunbathing, her son said.

“In the warm months, you couldn’t keep her inside,” Brian Peterson said. “The kids at the apartments called her the ‘crazy sun lady.’ She’d lay out there for three or four hours.”

Mick Von Bergen, who had a hardscrabble upbringing in Iowa, detasseling corn to save money for college, was known for being “overly frugal,” his family said.

On a trip to Washington, D.C., one summer, his kids whined about having to walk to another monument. Von Bergen, who by then had a steady engineering job, loaded them into an air-conditioned taxi. When he learned how much the fare would be, he changed his mind.

Kevin Croak, who taught acting at UW-Madison and appeared in independent films, was known for portraying bad guys.

“He loved to play the mob bosses and the gangsters, from James Cagney onward,” said Wil Loper, who directed Croak in several entries in the 48 Hour Film Project, an annual competition.

The son of an Episcopal priest, Vince Fish found his calling as a family therapist. Vince’s son, Dave, sees a progression tied to social trends.

“Being a psychologist is a more modern, secular way to help people,” Dave Fish said of the profession of his father, 70, who died from COVID-19 on Dec. 13. “You could describe him as a really caring, intelligent person who inherited all of the socially stiff traits of 1950s-60s, English-Protestant Americans and then tried to break out of them.”

A longtime lawyer for the state of Wisconsin whose volunteer work involved literacy and libraries, Thomas Boykoff had some unusual hobbies.

He wrote to dignitaries — presidents, popes, the king of Jordan, Fidel Castro — and collected boxes of responses in the form of cards, photos and letters. He was also a devotee of Millard Fillmore, the country’s 13th president, becoming a member of the self-deprecatingly-named “Fillmorons” fan club.

From 1952 to 2019, Ron Swann went to almost every Wisconsin Badgers football home game, missing only five.

Growing up in Madison, he attended games with his dad. Later, Swann and his wife, Fran, joined friends tailgating before games and staying for the Fifth Quarter celebration afterward.

When Jennifer Girard was in synchronized swimming as a child, her mother, Patricia Wahlton, drove her to the meets, even if they were out of state. When Girard joined the madrigal choir at school, Wahlton made her a red velvet dress.

Wahlton took on a big role during Girl Scout cookie sales. “She didn’t just help our troop,” Girard said. “She was the cookie chairwoman for all of that area. That’s mom. She was the go-to one who would get involved.”

For Diann and Mike Allsen, Cupid’s arrow came in the form of a trombone.

At Rochester Community College in Minnesota in 1976, they joined the band, both playing trombone. “I got the courage up to ask her out at the first football game,” Mike said. “I was in love with her right then.”

When Dave Chellevold took a job teaching physical education in Darlington in 1969, he promised his wife, Sheri, they would live there three years and then move to Madison or another bigger city.

They ended up staying 50 years. He worked for the Darlington School District for 30 years, the last 25 as high school principal. Then he taught education part-time at UW-Platteville for 16 years before the couple moved to Mount Horeb in 2019.