Mary -Jones-Obituary

Mary Jean Jones

Chicago, Illinois


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I am sorry for the lost of your dear love one. May the God of peace and comfort be with the family at this most difficult time. 2 Corinthains 1:3,4.

Tomorrow is the day of Thanking. "Turok Day" you said always. I am so cheerful and thankful for little time spent with you. Your laughing is still in my ears, in my memories and smiling it makes my face when grayness fills the skies. You are like my own crane, flying to bring me smiling across death.

I was thinking you were lost but I see you here and you are found.


I miss you. Papa says you went to heaven to dance with angels but I want to dance with you. You are MY godmother. Tell god I need you here. Joey swears that he sees you outside the window. Does he? Is it you?

God bless the dearly departed. God bless.

We worked together at Fancy Foods. She shared recipes with me almost every day. She had the most delicious lunches! I would come in with a sandwich, but she would have courses laid out before her in the lunch room! A delicate mushroom-barley soup with homemade fennel crackers to begin, than a salad "to cleanse the palate", a rich pasta next, and then dessert because, she said, "a meal is barely a meal without a grand finish." She was the best cook I ever met.


I've had a hard time knowing where to start because it seems like you've always been there for me. I know you're still around watching out for me but still it's hard. Susie and Joe don't understand why you haven't visited for so long. They make me feel your loss even more because they are so optimistic--they KNOW that you're coming back. I can't convince them otherwise.

Perhaps that's for the best.

This poem has comforted me, though, and I...

I have never revealed your precious secret, my dearhearted friend. Clearly, those who loved you have long since understood your gentle soul, and those who watched you dance saw only an angel in saddle shoes, a pony tail, and a purple scarf.

Sometimes we are only as free as the trees around us and the mountains beyond us. Then we only have to look to the heavens to remember that we are here to play. How else can stars and angels remember how to laugh?


Well I agree with Ruth sure but since I knew you much longer I can say less right? Right! I'm 89 and typing! Can you see that? Boy who would have guessed. We sure made the most of life, didn't we. You went without pain I am so happy about that. I bet you are in the clouds humming to Stokowski who is doing a concert just for you. Tell Gershwin to get his piano tuned cause when I come to see you, I will want some jazz! Love, Marty

My Mary Jean, Oh dear, you would have laughed, I know, but your obituary is so inadequate. "Mushroom stuffer" is like calling Rosa Ponselle a mere singer. What she did with her voice, my dear friend, you did to food. So you never won the Cordon Bleu but we who loved you knew what wonders you could do with eggplant, and that your olive paste was like heaven -- and that your chive crepes made more than one lover beg for your hand. You not once cooked...


Mary 's Obituary

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