Marsha Beth Garofalo
On Feb 29, 2008, Marsha Beth Garofalo passed on from this life to an eternal peace. Marsha died in her sleep at her residence in Virginia Beach, VA. She was a beloved wife, mother grandmother, and friend. Marsha’s kind and loving spirit impacted countless individuals. She understood the true meaning of giving through her work as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA); her fellowship at St Nicholas’s Catholic Church, as both a member of the Parish Counsel and the Adult Choir; and her long-standing commitment to CHKD as a member of the King’s Grant Circle of the King’s Daughter’s.
Marsha’s love of life was apparent to all who knew her. As an Idaho native and an often proclaimed valedictorian of Cascade High School, she took much joy in her yearly visits to her hometown. Here in her second home, Virginia Beach, she cultivated amazing friendships, enjoyed long walks on the beach with her third child, her dog Jefferson Garofalo, and had many laughs with her “swim girls” at Bayside Rec.
Marsha will be missed daily by all of her friends and family, including her mother Beth, her 3 brothers, her 3 sisters, and especially her son J.J., her daughter Gina, her former husband Jim, and her adoring granddaughter, Olivia, who will continue to remember “Mi-Mi” as the most fun and loving grandma this world could offer. Though she has left this life, her presence in our lives will go on lifting us up and calling us to be, like her, a light and an inspiration.
The family will be celebrating her life with friends at H.D. Oliver Funeral Home, 2002 Laskin Road, from 6pm-8pm on Thursday, March 6, 2008. A memorial mass will be held at St. Nicholas Catholic Church at 11am on Friday, March 7, 2008.
Please make your donations to CASA at the following address http://www.virginiabeachcasa.org
Please feel free to share your memories, condolences and thoughts for the family below.
March 3rd, 2008 at 7:40 pm
To have known Marsha is to have known Love. Marsha embodied all that is good in humanity. She was a compassionate, caring, and selfless wife, mother, and friend. Marsha’s acts of kindness, her ‘Pay it Forward’ spirit, will be remembered by all who had the privilege of knowing her. She cared for and consoled our daughter when we couldn’t, she nursed and cared for me following cancer surgery, and she recognized and celebrated our smallest accomplishments. Marsha did these things for everyone she knew and put others ahead of herself. Surely, she lived the admonition ‘..As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.’
March 3rd, 2008 at 8:51 pm
Collected from various church friends:
Michelle, Peyton, Emily & Kevin Rack: We will always remember Marsha’s kindness and “grace under pressure” when she was stage manager for the production of “The Sound of Music” at St. Nicholas. Despite her hectic schedule, Marsha took the time to encourage then 7-year old Peyton (Marta) to pursue her love of art. Marsha’s perseverance and faith in the face of prolonged, severe illness is an inspiration to all of us. We will remember her with love always.
Vanessa Valldejuli: I have fond memories of Marsha’s encouraging remarks during the Sound of Music production, her willingness to help me out with choir projects despite her busy schedule and her wonderful disposition and attitude notwithstanding the long recovery from her surgeries . . . . She is a source of inspiration and a quintessential example of unwavering faith.
Diane B Karpie: Marsha was a radiant woman who truly shone from the inside out. Her smile and great disposition were infectious and uplifting. but she [always] persevered and moved forward. Every time I think
of Marsha I have a vivid picture of her radiant smile and mischievous
eyes. One could always count on Marsha for a kind word, a thoughtful
pat, and a never ending graciousness that made everyone around her feel
special, warm, and welcome. I will miss her terribly and find solace knowing she is at peace w/God, and free as a bird to flit about from one flower to the next with no pain in her body or in her heart.
Barbara Galonsky, fellow Alto: I will remember Marsha’s cheerful fortitude during the long years of enduring so much pain and several surgical setbacks. Always so friendly and generous with her time and resources.
March 4th, 2008 at 1:34 pm
Marsha will be greatly missed by all that knew her. To me, Marsha was like a second Mother, a best friend, and most of all my buddy. She was an extraordinary person and I will remember her in all that I do. Words cannot describe how much she truly meant to me for past 20 years. My prayers go out to JJ, Gina and Mr. G. Since I was 8 years old they have been my second family across the street. We should all consider ourselves lucky to have known such a magnificent person.
March 4th, 2008 at 2:23 pm
Mrs. G was such a loving and caring person. Ever since my brother married Gina and we started spending Christmas’s together as one big family she always treated me as one of her own. I will always remember her mastery of kitchen, her enthusiasm for family game playing and the way she would always love trying out her new red lipstick with a big kiss on my cheek. God Bless.
March 4th, 2008 at 5:19 pm
We are so blessed to have known Marsha, I know that she was a dear friend to our family and she will be missed.
May you find comfort in knowing that your loved one touched the lives of so many others and gave them the gift of many happy memories.
We will keep you in our thoughts and prayers through this difficult time.
Danny, Shawna, Emmah & Mia Rashkind
March 4th, 2008 at 8:03 pm
Mrs. G was such a light in this world, and she will be so sorely missed! From the moment I met her through my friendship with Gina, she was caring, open, loving, supportive, honest, selfless and simply a comforting woman. I’ll never forget her kind words and caring gestures when Mom was dealing with cancer. No one else gave me a sense of calm and faith like Mrs. G, and it will never be forgotten! I’ll always remember her saying, “Elena, we won’t let anything happen to your mom! She’s going to be just fine!”
Gina, JJ and Mr G, Please know we are all praying for you. May God bring you the same peace, faith and hope that Mrs. G so willingly shared while she was here. I know she’s looking down on you and will always be watching over you from above.
Mrs. G, please know how loved you are and how missed you will be.
The rest of us will take comfort in knowing what a fantasticly positive impact you had on this world. …and at least we know that some day, when we go Home, we’ll arrive to the smell of warm bread baking in the oven and the sweet smile and warm open arms of Mrs. G! We love you and miss you more than you’ll ever know!
March 4th, 2008 at 8:45 pm
Our words can’t possibly express the sympathy we’re feeling for your family and all that you are going through right now….but our hearts can help to share the pain, our prayers will ask for healing, and our love will try to hold you close somehow.
With Deepest Sympathy,
The BowieBoys - Erik, Steve and Mke
March 5th, 2008 at 9:46 am
Dear JJ,
I remember so well meeting your Mom.
We girls were watching you boys thrashing about in the ocean when your Mom, and darling dog, came out to welcome us. Lively and endearing, I liked her instantly. That must be everyone’s response to her smile, her humor, her joy. If anyone could make a gorgeous day on the beach even sunnier, your Mom certainly did. Fun and sparkly and vivacious, I could also feel from her great warmth and great depth, a life lived with its share of reality, and a response to that reality of consciously choosing the bright side. It was obvious that she adores you and that you love her and are protective of her.
Later you all went inside to dry off, and since I’m always the last one to leave the beach, I stayed on. Whitney told me that she stood at the window and watched me swim, not wanting me to be out there alone. It reminded me of a story about my parents, which I hope will bring comfort to you.
Ever since I can remember we had a rule in our family that no one could swim alone.
As a child, having a back-up was good. Someone to pick me up when a big wave knocked me down. On vacation, our family frequented our favorite beach Saggaponack, at the very end of Long Island. Natural and free, the dunes and sand stretched for miles with few houses and inhabitants. We used to swim and sun all day and then fire up our small grill as the sun set. Around twilight a young man would appear with his dog and a red canoe. Blond, tanned, and athletic, man and dog would charge into the surf. Sometimes they would take the canoe. The ocean could be rough, and our family adopted him from afar as our charge, making sure that man and dog and canoe emerged safely from the surf each evening. The small fire and the security from knowing that we are connected, one to another in the universe, even with someone we haven’t officially met, warms me to this day.
When a teenager, life changes. Our “no swimming alone” rule became superfluous, completely unnecessary. After all, I’d been a good swimmer from an early age and I needed no help, thank-you-very-much. One gorgeous day just like many others I dived in and a strong undertow immediately gripped my feet. What power it had! What awesome might in the old sense of the word. As I started to head towards England, I began to reconsider the swimming rule. Perhaps it had more merit than I had thought. I knew not to swim against the current but to gradually angle out, but in the meantime I noticed that I was very, very far from shore. I also noticed my Dad starting to swim out towards me, and my Mom paralleling our progress from the ocean’s edge. When my Dad came within shouting distance I assured him that I was alright but definitely glad to see him and urged him to come no further, not wanting us both to be at the current’s mercy. He told me he was going to “do a little parallel swimming,” and thus we began. And continued. And continued for a very long time until the undertow finally went its own way toward England and released me to return to dry land. We telescoped back in, first me to Dad, then Dad and me to Mom and terra firma.
When my parents died, I felt the loss of their presence but also the comfort of knowing that they are definitely still with me. Although in a completely different realm, their energy and love remain undiminished. We are all still immersed in the same vast ocean, and so many, many times I know they are there beside me, parallel swimming.
I find it meaningful that my meeting your Mom coincided with Whitney’s “parallel swimming” watchfulness. Knowing how much your Mother loves you, and experiencing her energy, determination, and vital force, I know she is with you, watching over you, and whenever you need her, doing a little parallel swimming.
Meredith
March 5th, 2008 at 4:50 pm
Dear Marsha’s Family,
You are in my thoughts and prayers. Marsha will be dearly missed. I feel as if I have lost a sister. I knew her only for a few years, but we packed a lot of good times in that short period. We went to exercise class, movies, shopping, plays and once sitting on her balcony watching the sunset to name a few.
Gina, I am so glad I had a chance to meet you and Olivia in December. Olivia, your MiMi was so proud of you. I looked forward to each new set of pictures she would share.
We all loved Marsha, but I guess God loved her more. May God bless you and keep you in his loving arms. Ann Allen
March 5th, 2008 at 8:55 pm
Today I went into the empty locker room at the Bayside Recreation Center. I could almost see Marsha with her rolling cart, her hair dryer, and her beautiful smile, talking and laughing with us, her pool buddies.
She was always at the heart of the fun and high spirits we’d feel after exercise class.
We speak of people who light up the room when they arrive. Marsha would light up the pool. We won’t forget her “turbo” bicycle backwards, her water fights, and her way of always greeting each one of us as if we were special and remembering the details of our personal dramas.
I can’t even get started on the photos she took and shared, the homemade goodies she brought and the fun she arranged for us at various times. Marsha had such a wonderful impact on our lives. She will be in our hearts and prayers forever.
Marion Intlehouse
March 10th, 2008 at 7:09 am
Additional comments from Marsha’s St. Nicholas Choir Friends:
From Peggy Snead: Thoughts on marsha
funny, funny girl—how she could make us laugh!
joy, beauty, generosity, dignity…
woman of grace and strength,
a forever friend, a fellow alto,
a well of warmth and source of compassion…
a true and independent sense of fashion,
big dancing eyes and a sparkling smile on her face,
she welcomed one and all to her party place.
I hold thoughts of her tenderly in my heart
and take comfort knowing that she is now healed and
standing in the all encompassing light of god.
March 10th, 2008 at 7:12 am
To my true Sister-In-Love — How can I learn to be carefree without you here to coach me?
A spirit as high, as wide, as richly deep as blue sky over an Idaho Cascade Mountain. A heart as warm and as rich as a sunny July morning.
A strength of character and focus firmer than the Titanium rods placed in her spine. An impish grin that tickled you right to the tips of your toes.
An irreverance at solemn events such as church or a hoity toity theater or arts event where she would get the giggles and not be able to hold her laughter back.
Marsha was a woman of community spirit, of incredible determination and energy when supporting and nurturing the child in all of us, her own and the souls she championed through CASA. Above all, she nurtured family and home. How many of us have marveled at the rich life she created in whatever circle she embraced? How many of us have envied her green thumb, indoors and out; her ability to turn castaway bits and pieces of glass, tile and clay into art; to knead flour water and some magic ingredients into the most wonderful bread and rolls. How many of us will remember on holidays her joy in bringing groups of people together for fellowship, physical nourishment, communal meals and spiritual revitalization? And who will put together the vast amounts of food, set the table, declare the games must begin and bring out the prizes?
It didn’t take five minutes after I met Marsha at the 11o’clock mass 9 years ago to know that this woman was my sister in love – the sister who truly understood what it meant to be the big sister of a large family and take on all the cares and concerns of younger (and older!) brothers and sisters. She is the sister that I could choose to have in my life, the sister I could lean on, look up to, and love with all my heart. Today, and forever more, we will have a hole in our hearts and our memory but we don’t have to look very far to find Marsha’s presence in our lives.
I, for one, have a new mission that Marsha gave to me over the last couple of months. She proclaimed herself my mentor in this new mission — that she would teach me how to embrace being carefree . . . to let go of the stress of work and commitments and to LIVE my life fully. I will have to hold on with all my strength to the giggle in her voice when she said “can’t talk to you right now, I’m out living life!”
March 10th, 2008 at 7:30 pm
Taylor’s Eulogy delivered on 7 March 2008:
I get 30 seconds to tell you the beginning and the end, and Jimmy, Gina, and JJ will fill in some of the middle parts. This is the Cliff Notes of the Cliff Notes version of Marsha’s story.
The Beginning:
One of Marsha’s most pronounced characteristics was her commitment to serving. She learned that ethic early in life. She was five years old when her family moved to the little town of Cascade in the mountains of Idaho. It was winter. The snow was deep, and the morning temperatures ranged from a balmy -20 to a chillier 30 degrees below zero. Mom cried every day and couldn’t bring herself to face the world outside her front door. So every few days, she sent her five-year-old girl to the grocery store pulling a red wagon with a grocery list and a signed, blank check. The grocer filled the order, loaded it in the wagon, filled out the check, and sent the little girl home to face what the grocer must have assumed was an insane, if not maniacal, mother. In fact, Marsha was loved tenderly at home, but she learned from that experience the great sense of fulfillment and joy that she always derived from serving others in need.
That same experience did not, thankfully, inform her notion of good parenting skills. Her strong mothering instincts were probably innate, but she also learned good mothering skills early on. At the ripe age of eight, she was regularly assigned diaper-changing duty for her new baby brother. She later told me, “I must have changed a million of those ‘messy’ diapers.” And for the younger mothers here today, diaper duty then was not like it is now. Back then, you generally rinsed the soiled diaper in the toilet first before throwing it in the bucket to be washed when enough of them piled up. Marsha learned then that good mothering required a lot of gritty determination in the face of unpleasant sights and smells as well as lots of tender love often given with little or no “thanks” in return. That lesson laid a solid foundation on which to become the excellent mother that she was.
You all knew Marsha to be a great cook. Many of the remembrances written on the rememberingmarshabeth.com website mention the fun and terrific meals at the Garofalo home. She developed those talents early in life, but her first “professional” foray with them was a summer job at age 16 working as cook in a logging camp. She and her friend, Darlene, who is here today, made what passed as home for all the men at camp that summer. Darlene, who at the outset of summer, didn’t even know how to fry an egg, says Marsha was Martha Stewart before there was Martha Stewart. Darlene told me, “Marsha made pies and bread from scratch, we decorated the tables, and had games to play for those who had any energy left after logging.” I’m sure the loggers particularly appreciated the table decorations. But I thought all of you should know that Marsha’s ability to create a great meal, a beautiful space, and lots of fun for a crowd – those great culinary talents were forged in a logging camp.
And the end of the beginning is this: Marsha was born funny. She didn’t have to learn that.
The End:
Marsha’s last years, as many here know, were marked by one commanding fact. She lived with excruciating physical pain. Four terrible back surgeries had left her nerves unalterably damaged, and every waking moment she felt pain: getting out of bed, fixing a meal, posing Jefferson for a holiday picture, or having lunch with her girlfriends. She felt pain. And it was pain to a degree that most of us, thankfully, can’t imagine. To deal with it, she took medications. Powerful drugs. The type and in quantities that most of us could never tolerate. But those medications made it possible for her to carry on. And not just carry on, but to live well: to continue her work with CASA, to be active with King’s Daughters and the choir, to make her wonderful meals, take trips to Europe and Idaho, and entertain all of us with her jokes and laughter. In fact, she was often so much like herself that many, including even those closest to her, were either unaware or frequently forgot the terrific pain and the fragile body that shadowed her every step and smile. We all knew Marsha to be the fun, caring person that she was, but with quiet determination and grit, she demonstrated that there was a steely core well hidden beneath the playful teasing and joyful spirit.
And at the very end, Marsha Beth Garofalo died quietly in her bed just a week ago today. Leap Day, in fact. That’s not the point, but it’s worth noting that God didn’t think anyone whose life Marsha touched or filled would ever need a calendar to remind them of her passing.
Marsha died in her bed, but not in her sleep. Her head was turned to the side on her pillow, and she was looking out the window at the bay and the ships and the sky. The light of a quarter-moon that evening would have danced on the waves, the Chesapeake Bridge is beautifully lit, and the stars do shine brightly through her windows.
She looked, my partner, Bill, has said, like God touched her in bed and said, “Marsha, it’s time to come home.” But Marsha didn’t just close her eyes and say, “I’m ready, Lord.” Instead, she turned and looked out that window and said, “But there’s so much beauty and life and fun still to be shared.” Marsha didn’t struggle when God called her home, but she did question the timing.
That’s the end, but I have just one personal reflection to make about my sister. In the last year, Bill and I have had the privilege of helping her adjust to a new life: moving into her home, giving her a basic understanding of finances, and generally being there to counsel and console. Marsha always thanked us in her own style. She would say, “I think those boxes unpacked today and fixing the shelves in the laundry room are worth about 20 “messy” diapers. You’re getting closer, Tay, but there are still A LOT of diapers left.” I appreciated this barter system, but of course, I was aware of a big difference in our payments. I’m confident that when Marsha was changing my diapers, she never thought of it as a privilege. For Bill and me, helping Marsha this past year was not only a privilege but a great joy. We loved every moment in her presence, and we’re grateful beyond measure for the trust she placed in us. Thank you, Marsha, for that final gift.
March 16th, 2008 at 10:07 am
Darlene Peterson Morgan, Marsha’s life-long friend, wrote the following reflections on their younger years together:
Marsha Beth
The early years with Marsha consisted of humor, laughter and adventures. By that I mean, Marsha was the ultimate in “daring” adventures. Now, they seem very simple and very innocent but then she was always thinking of something we should “dare” to do.
The 60’s included a ceremony created and choreographed by Marsha that was a “burning of our bras” in way of pledging to be liberated. This took place of course at a very scary place in the dark near a cemetery that had long been forgotten at Crown Point.
Marsha was also the founder of an exclusive girls club, only active in the summer on the Lake in Cascade. We had our rights of passage, again created and choreographed by Marsha. We had code words and basically our own language that we didn’t think anyone would understand. I think “Mom Beth” had it figured out. We were the “Cove Runners” named in honor of an abandoned raft we obviously found at the “Lake”.
Summers were “sun-bathing” with her being the ultimate expert including the suntan secret potion of baby oil and iodine. We slept under the stars ON the golf course, as often as possible, with Beth reminding us to get up and off the course before the golfers arrived.
The highlight of the summer of our high school years was “street dances” and the 4th of July.
Marsha was very smart as she reminded me often and had “skipped” a grade so even though we were the same age, she was smarter and could talk me into just about anything. Musically talented, she played the oboe in band, sang in the choir. When I hear music from the 60’s & 70’s, I relate most of the songs to times we spent together. When I hear anything by the Eagles and our favorite “Hotel California”, I always think of Marsha.
I spent so much time at Marsha’s that I am sure that her siblings thought I was one of the family. My home was quiet and boring compared to Marsha’s, but her love for my Mom’s potato salad drew us there for those occasions when Mom would let her know she made potato salad.
Our college years separated us and we had other adventures, but always stayed in touch and reserved the 4th of July as our annual trip home to Cascade. But, fate brought us back together in Boise in the mid’70’s.
We were then looking for new adventures, and after a trip we took from Seattle, WA to San Francisco we decided we needed to “backpack Europe”. We both had 10-speed bikes and would stop places and ride our bikes. The idea of Europe came from some very interesting people “guys” we met on the beach in Mendocino, CA. So the task was to save the money to do this the following summer. We spent the year working to save, but we were both a little short. We bought the book “Europe on $10 a Day and had mapped our adventures, gotten our passports, and were trying to find ways to save more money quickly. We found the ultimate job for the summer about 60 miles from our “hometown” of Cascade. The pay was good, free room and board, “why not?” said Marsha. I was more like “are you kidding?” But again she talked me into it.
We were to cook for a camp and feed between 25-40 men five days a week. This was easy for Marsha as she was at home in the kitchen and loved to cook. I had no clue. We arrived one week early and talked the owner into buying us paint as the kitchen and dining room and the cook’s quarters were trailers that were a little dingy. I painted; Marsha decorated, hung pictures, and brought it to her standards which included her very own macramé designs and other crafts she created.
Breakfast was to be served at 6 a.m., dinner at 6:00 pm. They packed their own lunches and were gone all day. Wow, I thought this wasn’t so bad a summer with lots of time to read and relax. I had it figured out that Marsha would cook and I would clean up and do all of the record keeping required, order supplies, etc. I struggled to start the generator each morning which was a little scary in the dark and about the size of a locomotive. She finally gave up on me and took over my job, for some reason the thing would start for her. So that meant I was going to learn to cook, starting with breakfast.
She was a patient teacher. I would cook the eggs, I mastered that after about a week and could fry 60 eggs on the grill without breaking a yoke.
It didn’t take long for the patrons of our fine establishment to realize that Marsha was a great cook. Homemade bread, rolls, pies and her best Oatmeal Cookies were an everyday thing. I did try and win a few games of Scrabble or Cribbage to determine who had to do the dishes, but more often than not she won. I did dishes. I was able to peel potatoes and boil them, and basically felt things were going good as her prep person. Until the test: Marsha gave me a recipe for a cake. She was going to leave me alone and go for a hike and I was to bake the oatmeal cake.
I should have learned by watching her, but I really didn’t pay attention. After her hike, and a few hours later, nothing was baking in the oven as I was waiting for the “cold oatmeal” part of the recipe. I had placed the box of oatmeal in the refrigerator to cool off and proceeded to read my novel, checking on the box periodically to see if it was cold yet. I would never live that one down, but the great thing about Marsha was her telling the story. It got better each time and even I would laugh.
My dream of reading novels was very short lived as Marsha felt we needed to explore the mountains that surrounded us daily. Trying to keep up with Marsha and her long, long legs was nearly impossible. Everyday we needed to find lakes, streams, and mountain tops that we could hike to and return in time for the dinner meal. She had a lot of energy and stamina. She had the maps and again organized the daily adventures and really could ignore my whining. Again, I would be convinced I should do this.
The only disagreements we ever had throughout time were over “who drove”. Marsha was not a good passenger and it was easier to let her drive. It was risky as she loved to drive fast, music loud and with her long blonde hair blowing in the wind.
The gossip in town about two single women at camp was much more interesting than the real story and we thought after about a month, that this was great for saving money, but our social lives were the pits. The camps patrons were older, mostly married and retired to their bunkhouses after dinner. We lasted through the season and moved to Spokane and got “real” jobs that Fall.
We both met and married Jim’s after our move to Spokane, WA and started new adventures of our own. My memories with Marsha are of laughter, fun, looking beyond the horizon and countless hours of card games, board games, and popcorn. We planned through the years and met over the fourth of July in Cascade, to catch up and renew our friendship. We never were able to live our dream of the European adventure together. We talked this Christmas of traveling to Europe together, but this time without the backpacks.
Marsha is a person that has enriched my life as well as everyone who got to know her. Brilliant, talented, artistic, gracious, passionate and engaging are only a few words that come to mind when I think of Marsha.
May 21st, 2008 at 9:06 pm
Mom,
In eight days it will have been three months since you left us. This whole grieving thing would be a lot easier if you were here to laugh with me. I’ve spent a lot of time remembering little moments, and some days I just get a catch in my throat and want to make it all stop.
I read a really nice piece on grieving with faith… that we can grieve without despair… that though there is loss, all is not lost. But I am lost without you.
Despite the waves of sadness, one shining truth is always there: I was lucky to be your daughter, and oh, how I loved sharing the magic of life with you. You made me believe.
So I will go on having faith and seeing you in every silver lining.
You are in my heart through it all,
G:)
May 26th, 2008 at 3:40 pm
Very beautiful, Gina. I wanted you to know, you’re not alone. The power of her absence is strong. We visited her place at the church on Saturday, Carolyn & Steve, Bill and I. We listened. Prayed. Cried some more.
She taught us a lot. There is still more to learn. I hope we have time to understand and live the lessons.
Love to you and Jerry and her littlest angel, Livy.
May 29th, 2008 at 11:47 pm
Mom,
There is some comfort in knowing how deeply we all feel your absence. We are all connected in that way, and it makes the load a little lighter.
Uncle Taylor, thank you for posting. I check all the time just to see if anyone is out there thinking of her while they watch the sunset or enjoy a nice glass of wine.
The crazy thing is that she taught me enough about life that in a way I feel better equipped to handle this, but then I also wish I could have just one more day with her.
Mom, you are always present in our lives. I will miss you on Saturday at Livy’s birthday party- don’t worry I found a book you had bought for her that I wrapped for her as a gift from Mi-Mi. I’ll try not to be too sad that Livy can’t sit in you lap for a photo this year…
You’ll be here anyway, won’t you?
Missing you,
G:)
May 31st, 2008 at 1:26 pm
WOW, I finally was able to log in-it has taken me all day ! Gina, I have been reading your lovely letters to your mother. How proud she would be.I know that her absence will be felt as Livy turns two. She will be with you in spirit and in your heart.I think of her everyday and I miss her.A group of her friends went to see “Sex in the City”. I can’t wait for you to see it. There is a part that was made for Jefferson.We all laughed and knew that Marsha was with us.When I think of your mother, I can always find something to laugh about. I hope Livy has a great birhday.Give her a hug from” MiMi’s girlfriend-Love always,LEE
July 4th, 2008 at 3:13 pm
Happy 4th Mom,
I know you will be missed as the float coordinator and star participant in the Cascade parade today. You will be in my heart, and I’m sure you’ll especially be present in that crisp mountain air. It is a beauitful day here in Evanston too, and Livy is decked out in red, white, and blue. Guess what? When I ask her now who loves her, she says, “Mi-Mi.” How right she is. Hope you can enjoy the fireworks from above.
With a heart full of memories,
Gina:)
July 16th, 2008 at 3:22 pm
hey girlfriend,Janice and I decided to celebrate your b’day today, as she has a funeral to go to friday. We went to Austin Rocco’s and each bought a charm in memory of you.Janice got a clam(like the one we gave you for Xmas. I got a silver cross with blue stones that dangles . When I saw it, I knew that it is the one I would have bought for you. We also went to Aldo’s for lunch. I haven’t decided how I will spend fri. I will have to see how I feel. I might play golf with Michael or I might call someone and go to see “Mama Mia”. Whatever I do,I will have you in my heart and on my mind. Love you forever-your girlfriend, LEE
July 19th, 2008 at 4:20 am
Marsha, I feel better after our brief visit yesterday at the columbarium. Sorry that the flowers weren’t very beautiful - Harris Teeter’s, you know - and I’m not much of a floral arranger. But it was nice to be there awhile and talk. We love you and remember you especially fondly on this day.
- Taylor & Bill
July 28th, 2008 at 10:03 pm
Can’t you come back to us, Mom? I don’t know where you are or if you can hear me, but if you can, I love you. And I think of you. I look for you in the summer breeze, hoping against hope that you will come to me and whisper that you’ve been here all along. That we should go for a walk and grab some coffee or a bottle of wine for later. That it will be okay.
I know you are not truly gone and that it is never really over… because you’ve left a little piece of yourself in so many hearts. You live in mine.
-Your Gina
August 20th, 2008 at 5:01 pm
Marsha, sweet Marsha…not a day goes by that I’m reminded of your selflessness. Yesterday it was in reading from SIMPLE ABUNDANCE, your gift to me at one of my lowest points; on the nights I can’t get back to sleep, it’s the angel on the bedside table that you created to remind me of the angels in my life; daily it’s the memory of your smile and infectious laugh. I love you and miss you. Until we meet again you are always in my thoughts and prayers.
With much love,
Carrell
August 29th, 2008 at 1:07 am
Thinking of you today, Mrs. G, with lots of love and a little sadness. You’re in my mind and my heart each and every day…
September 20th, 2008 at 7:23 am
Hi Mom,
Livy opened a little Dora play set that you had probably bought for her birthday. We told her it was from her Mi-Mi and she loved it. There is not a day that goes by that we don’t remember your love. I have felt you with me lately, helping to guide me through, and I thank you for that. It would be so great if you could come give your little Livy a hug in person, but each time we talk about you, I am hoping that she feels all of the love you will always have for her. She is talking so much now, Mom. When we look at your picture, she says, “Mi-Mi is in heaven.” It is so precious.
We miss you so,
G
November 11th, 2008 at 8:07 pm
Mom,
I know you are with me now. I feel your presence when I need it the most. Please send Lisa’s sister love on angel’s wings and help her to get through. I can just hear your voice and what you’d say if you were here. I miss you so much it hurts.
G
February 21st, 2009 at 11:44 am
Mom,
I had a dream about you last night. It was so vivid that I woke up feeling like I had spent some time with you and my heart somehow felt lighter. This is a tough month for us, Mom. I can’t believe almost a year has passed by. I wish you were here to feel the baby kicking and laugh with me when sweet little Livy does something cute. In my dream last night, I told you I missed you. Hoping that you heard me…
Love you so,
G
March 1st, 2009 at 12:18 pm
We are thinking of Marsha’s family with all our heart this time of year.
The sadness is always there thinking of her in so many places. But we
smile when we remember her.
Gina, congratulations! You are and will be a wonderful mom - you learned from the best.
Her love for all of you will be with you.
Margit, Don & Stefanie
March 2nd, 2009 at 5:45 pm
Marsha, the first anniversary of you taking wing from this life has come and gone. Hard to believe it has been a year: lots of heartache and longing; some smiles and laughter with photos, memories, and stories; and quite a few tears. The love endures, though. Likewise, the lessons of joyful, good living that you taught your children and many of the rest of us, too, still have their beneficent effect. We marked this anniversary at Mass with some of your family and friends, and we held the pretty flowers and read the loving note that Annamarie left for you. I guess you know all of this already, but somehow writing it down seems right. Maybe, after all, you’re distracted decorating for some heavenly meal or gathering players for an ethereal board game. When you have time to read it, there will be this record of things your family and friends have thought and done while we’ve been apart. With love, Taylor & Bill
March 5th, 2009 at 4:53 am
Mom,
I haven’t been able to log into this website, but of course we have talked plenty of times. As I cry writing this letter it’s because I would love for you to be here to see what I’m doing with my life. Fit Bites will come to life soon, and I actually like working in Dad’s business now too, and after 2 years of heartache things are looking up. Mom, you helped me realize what I’m here to do with my life and that is help others in need guide people give them praise like you always did. Every chance I get now I try to do just that. I will never forget all the moments we shared and times we spent together. Every time I see a picture of you I just wish I could hug and kiss you. You meant the world to me and your love will last forever. Keep watching and guiding me mom, I going to do some pretty awesome things in my life time. I love you mom and don’t forget to wake me up once in a while with a cool breeze or some sign that you’re nearby.
Love forever,
J.J.
April 23rd, 2009 at 1:27 pm
Well, today is the day you’ve been waiting for mom. I’m going to ask Hillary to Marry me!! What Hillary and I have been through since your passing has taught me a lot about what live is all about. I have someone here that means so much to me a couldn’t imagine my life without her. All the memories we share and adventures we’ve had mean so much to me. Wow, you were right, what a great women I have to share the rest of my life with. I wish you were here RIGHT NOW so I could tell you my plan.., but since your not I will tell you in this letter. I’m going to ask her at Maymont park where we took you when you visited. Remember the beautiful Italian rose garden where people get married, that’s where I’m going to do it. I have a photographer set up that she of course doesn’t know about to take pictures along our walk. Then at the top of the stairs I’m going to tell her I want her to spend the rest of her life with me. I love you mom, and now I know you’ll be there watching. Well, I better tell you now I want to go for a walk. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Love forever,
J.J.
July 7th, 2009 at 4:22 pm
Thinking of you daily and missing you more. I long for those carefree days with our girls. Remembering our ‘camping’ at Seashore, playing Scrabble while Gina, Elena, and Ashley tried so hard to avoid ‘the parentals’! MarshaBeth, you are my inspiration and I miss you so!
September 2nd, 2009 at 6:02 pm
Hi Mom,
Oh, I wish you were here. I really want to tell you about Cal and that he just gave me the “long smile” that we used to love when Livy was a baby. Can you believe he’s doing it too?! Mom, no one knows about that except for you. Who am I supposed to tell? I miss you with every breath and sometimes it takes my breath away. I was in Livy’s room tucking her in the other night (she loves to hear “The Cloud” before she goes to bed, by the way) and I got lost in a picture of the two of you. You are on the couch and she has her little arm around your neck and you are both smiling. I wish little Cal could feel the warmth of your love. Please be with us. We need you and miss you so.
Your Gina
November 16th, 2009 at 7:50 pm
Mom,
Please come back to me. My heart won’t let go. I just can barely believe that you aren’t here to hear your sweet Livy talk about Jesus and Christmas. We went to a breakfast with Santa on Sunday and she wanted to listen to Christmas music on the way- she was dancing in her little car seat. Mom, I can’t do it without you. You wouldn’t believe how sweet Cal is. He just smiles all the time and his precious little hands reach out and touch your face. He is adorable and you would have loved holding him and making him giggle. Why can’t you just be here with us? I want to laugh with you. I want to anticipate the Christmas season and give love away with you. I want you to be the magic in the lives of my kids. I want you back.
Loving you so very much,
Gina
December 4th, 2010 at 12:48 am
Today we bought our Christmas Tree, got it in the house and started to decorate. First the lights, then the ribbon, and one after another, the many memory filled ornaments. We had almost finished when I stuck my hand back in the box and pulled out a little brown clay figure. It was a little moose, sitting down tangled in a string of lights. One antler missing but still in good shape. A simple gift from an extremely talented woman.
We all know of the Garofalo familys winter wonderland they created each december. Today I remembered all those years one more time and i miss all the magic it brought us each year. Love you Marsha.
December 4th, 2010 at 10:47 pm
Mom,
It warms my heart to know that the love you gave had a real impact. You are still remembered. Your memory is kept alive in our hearts. This time of year makes me long for the light of your presence. For the sweetness of the Christmas season by your side. After all this time, a part of me still asks why. Why did you have to go? Somehow putting my faith in the miracle of Christmas and the love and peace He brought makes me feel closer to you. I am trying to pass that faith in what you cannot see or prove onto my children. Livy loves to read the Grinch Who Stole Christmas and really understands what he means when he says, “Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.” Thank you for giving me a heart that is willing to embrace the unseen. I miss you still.
July 18th, 2011 at 8:01 pm
Dear sweet Marsha,
I am still in love with you …
and miss you everyday …
December 19th, 2016 at 10:12 pm
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