The image haunts the mind of one Lemont mother: Beaver Stadium — a place some consider to be a house of worship — graced by a halo of light.

For M.F. Roof, it is the lasting image from a week of mourning for the high priest of that temple, Joe Paterno, whose passing brought devotees into town from far and wide, wearing their grief like blue and white on a fall Saturday.

“It was just so sadly beautiful,” Roof said. “It looked like the heavens were opened and JoePa was shining down.”

Roof doesn’t watch football. She knew Paterno mainly from his family’s work with the Special Olympics. Roof’s son is special needs, and one of his most prized possessions is a picture of him draped around Paterno, the old coach returning the hug and throwing in a big smile to boot.

“Even though I didn’t watch his games, I always admired the guy and his wife,” Roof said. “Even though I don’t know them personally, I feel like the community lost a very honorable man.”

Roof was one of many who photographed the halo, a phenomenon caused by a low cloud cover reflecting from the stadium’s game-day lights, which were left on every night from Sunday to Friday in memory of the coach and legend.

Penn State’s athletic department decided to put on the lights, though who exactly made the decision remains unclear. Officials did not return calls on Friday.

Bob Bair, who has worked for 28 years as an electrician with the Office of the Physical Plant, got the job of flipping on the lights every evening before he left work.

“We got the call last Sunday,” Bair said. “Somebody in the Athletic Department made the decision to bring the lights up, so I got the call to go over there and bring them up.”

Though it was his day off, Bair made his way around the stadium to the 14 different stations and flipped the switch on the hundreds of floodlights, which burned bright enough to turn night into day.

“I was honored to come in,” Bair said. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Every morning, Bair drove in before daybreak from his home in Lewistown. Along U.S. Route 322, still miles away from the stadium, Bair saw the glow in the sky and it warmed his heart. “Absolutely beautiful,” he said.

Bair drove over to the stadium and turned the lights out for the day, then turned them on in the afternoon before heading home. There were no glitches, no burnouts to deal with. Soon, he heard stories of people affected by the light, none more powerful than one he heard of Jay Paterno himself being moved to tears by seeing the halo of light over his father’s most hallowed ground.

“The whole Paterno family has been going through such tough times,” he said. “Hearing about Jay walking his dog and seeing the lights, (it) really hit home. It really made it worth it.”

Friday morning, Bair drove once again to the stadium to turn off the lights for the last time.

“The fog was covering the field — it was something to see,” he said. “I can’t explain it, but it seemed special.”

One at a time, he flipped the switches. Though day was breaking, it got a little darker in Happy Valley.

Cliff White can be reached at 235-3928.