Mario T. SORIA

1927 - 2015

BORN

1927

DIED

2015

FUNERAL HOME

Desert Sunset Funeral Home

3081 W. Orange Grove Road

Tucson, Arizona

Mario SORIA Obituary

Name: Service for Mario T. SORIA
Start: 2015-04-17T23:00:00.000Z
Location: DESERT SUNSET

SORIA, Mario T., born August 2, 1927 in La Paz, Bolivia, reunited April 14, 2015 with his beloved wife, Simone (1930-2001). A kind, energetic, creative man. A mensch. The world is better because he was in it. Services Friday, April 17, 2015 4:00 p.m., DESERT SUNSET, 3081 W. Orange Grove.

To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.

Published by Arizona Daily Star on Apr. 16, 2015.

Memories and Condolences
for Mario SORIA

17 Entries

May 14, 2015

From:
Mario's friends, George and Ruth Mary Grant & Family

When I first met Mario he was teaching a Spanish for Travelers course at the Cleveland YMCA in 1954. I enrolled in the course prior to taking a vacation trip to southern Mexico. Mario invited me to his apartment in East Cleveland and I met Simone, Monique and Mireille. From that time on we became close friends. It is a friendship that lasted throughout the years and grew stronger as our families grew. We did so many things together, belonged to the International Students Group, La Mesa Espanol, went to sporting and cultural events, picnics, vacation trips, etc. I enjoyed the countless dinners and get-togethers that we had. You cannot ask for a better friendship. Fifty-four years ago, I married Ruth Mary; we now have three grown children and all of them became friends with Mario and Simone. Mario is the kindest, most sensitive, trustworthy and caring person that I have ever met. He and Simone had a model marriage with unbound-able love for their family. I feel so privileged to have known them and to have shared their friendship and all the events in our lives during so many years.
George

May 11, 2015

I'm so sorry for your loss, Monique.

Sue Hayes

May 3, 2015

From:
Mario's daughter, Michele Soria

Gabriella is right about how loving Papi/Tata was, and how important it is to share that love. Gabriella and I didn't write anything down about what we'd say together (at the funeral services) but we did talk earlier today about Tata - we smiled and laughed thinking about Tata. Tata always greeted people with his arms extended wide open in the air; when you walked into his home he would literally reach out with his arms toward you. We've received so many messages from so many people that heard about Tata passing. One friend wrote about how extraordinary Tata was and that he made an impact on thousands of people and then she said she thought again, and changed it to millions of people. Like the rabbi said, Tata loved the arts, loved photography, theater, music and dancing, travel and soccer, but most of all he loved PEOPLE, he loved family. He made friends EVERYWHERE he went. One day he came home with the Costco guy - we were a little concerned. We love you, Papi, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so,so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so very much. We will share your love with each other and with others.

May 3, 2015

May 2, 2015

From Mario's good friends, Shlomo & Vicky Benderly and family:
The Midrash tell us that in every generation there are in the world 36 righteous people (in Hebrew: Lamed Vav Tzadikim). In our book, Mario ZAL, was one of them, and with him leaving us, the world is short of one.
What a great husband, parent, great teacher and a wonderful friend he was. He loved the teachings and his students were crazy about him. Loved to travel, loved music and art and photography, the literature and poems and mainly loved PEOPLE.
We, all of us who knew him, love him dearly and never will forget this special human being.
Shalom Chaver, Shalom Mario,
May your memory be a blessing.

May 2, 2015

From Mario's son-in-law, Curtis Freilich:
Mario was a teacher and the greatest lesson he taught was the example
of his life.

From the first time that I met him so many years ago I always felt
loved and welcome, a part of this large and wonderful family, something
that felt so natural and right, something not usually present in my own
immediate family.

He was a remarkable man with so much natural joy and passion (that
Latin thing) passions that ranged far and wide - whether it was his love
for Simone or his passion for art, theater and music. I will miss our long and many
sessions sitting listening to all kinds of music together classical, pop, Latin
and more. And when he listened he moved, as if the music were a part of him.

His love for people was vast. He had more friends than anyone I've ever
known, friends all over the world.
A funny Mario story (and there are many!):
We both shared a love of technology and the latest gadgets which usually meant
Apple products - one day I was helping him with his contacts on his new iPhone
or computer - somehow all his contacts ended up merging with the contacts on my
computer. I went through to delete his contacts from my computer. This was no
easy task! There were hundreds and hundreds, maybe a thousand names and they
were from all over the world South America, Mexico, Israel, Greece, Europe,
everywhere in the United States. It took me a very, very long time to delete and I still
occasionally come across a Mario contact on my computer.

He had a passion for travel. He took me along with Ricky to Italy while
running the students abroad program. He took Mireille, our children and me to many
places all over the world. He enjoyed showing us the places he loved everywhere
and I remember he would always be far ahead in the distance waiting for us and
ready to keep moving he was an ambassador to the world.

I remember our long and wonderful discussions on philosophy and life,
about Judaism, the Kabbalah. The word he loved more than any other was
Mensch which he said he aspired to be but which really came effortlessly
to him. I looked up the meaning of the word: someone we hold in high regard
and aspire to be like.
Another Mario story:
The day before I left to come to Mario's funeral service I was at my dentist having
a procedure for a crown. Somehow it came up that I was leaving town the next
day and Karen (my dentist) asked if it was a business trip. I reluctantly explained to
her that Mario had passed away and I was going to his service.
She stopped and got teary-eyed. Mario had come to see her several years earlier for
dental work and of course he befriended her. She explained that a few nights
previous she'd come across the lovely shawl that he'd brought back for her from
Bolivia.

At times he could seem so innocent or naïve how could anyone live in
this contemporary world and not become hard and cynical? Mario was
like a wonderful well-spring of joy amidst the dark and troubling news of the day.

I was fortunate and lucky to have him in my life.
I will miss him.

May 2, 2015

From Mario's son, Rick Soria:
Dear Papi,

This is the first letter I have ever written to you. I don't know your zip code, but
I know you are in a peaceful place. Not often do people live to be reunited with their
soulmate. You proved it that being here with family is #1, yet having a passion to
be with my mother is a way of being.
Maybe it was a photo or a faint memory, but I know you held me as a baby without
your shirt on. I did the same tradition to my sons and found out by research that
skin-to-skin with an infant is a lifetime bond. I recall you telling me as a kid that our
family may not have the best furniture, but we always travel the world. Of the
thousands of memories, traveling as a family or just you and me, the theme was to
enjoy the moment and cherish the friends you make along the way. The stacks of
photos you took I realize now it was for all of us to reflect on our lives.

As a business partner, we planted the seed for thousands of students to travel,
explore their heritage and to think globally. You and I once rented a car in Spain.
Our goal was to go to random towns and interview the locals to find out where to
eat the best paella in town. You also gave the lesson of taking your time when you
cook and to make it a joy for others.

I don't know how to thank you for sharing your love and passion with music. Music
for my sons and me is essential to our path in life. Your knowledge and wisdom are a
key to life for us. To always look at a glass of water half-full showed us the essence
of life - enjoy your day and look forward to tomorrow. Well, I don't expect you to
write me back, but I know you are there for all of us when we ponder about our
direction in life.

Papi, we will meet up again and I will wait each day for you to finish dancing with
Mom so I can have the next dance. With all my love and the love for you from
around the world, L'Chaim!

Love,

Ricky

May 2, 2015

From Mario's granddaughter, Sarah Almaraz:
Many people knew of my grandfather's love of duct tape. For sure, he was the king of duct tape. Interestingly enough, my oldest daughter is the queen of duct tape. Hopefully, just one of the many qualities to be passed on by him.

So what is it about duct tape? Duct tape is a fixer. It is a helper. It is a solution to a problem. And my grandpa was all of these things. If someone needed help with something, he found a solution. I know he enjoyed helping people. No doubt he was charming and liked to be sociable. But he really, truly cared not only about his family and friends, but about everyone he met. What a great way to go through life.

You know what else about duct tape? That stuff has staying power. Trust me - it's snuck into our laundry, and it is mighty permanent. Even though he's no longer physically with us, my grandfather's wisdom, kindness, and generosity will not be forgotten. Like the residue that duct tape leaves, these amazing qualities that he possessed and shared with us will be imprinted on our hearts forever. I thank him for leading by example and for making sure that what he taught us had sticking power.

I know we will smile in the coming days, months, and years when we find a picture duct-taped to a frame or a business card duct-taped to a pencil box. In those moments, we will remember him and his resourcefulness. And just as duct tape has the power to bind, that is what he did with our family. I picture him wrapping duct tape around all of us, sealing in the love and happiness that he and my grandmother created. And that is the legacy he leaves behind for us.

May 2, 2015

From Mario's granddaughter, Raquel Robles:
Many of my happiest memories are with my grandfather: waking up at the crack of dawn to help him with breakfast and then off to the post office and the grocery store. Grocery shopping with Tata was the best because he always filled the cart with everything I wanted. Tata also gave me my first job, as his office assistant, with payment in the form of McDonald's milkshakes. As little girls, my sister and I took road trips to Chicago with Sasa and Tata, marking the beginning of my love for the city. I remember sitting in the hotel in Chicago as Tata carefully peeled his favorite fruit, a mango, saying, "Here, try it, it is delicious." From that point on mangos were my favorite fruit as well. And as we became adults, Tata was always there for us. He came to visit when Jay, his first great-grandchild was born, and, along with my mom, walked me down the aisle at my wedding. And as his memory faded, even though he couldn't remember their names, Tata never forgot to ask how my two "fellows" were doing (meaning Jay and Richard), somehow always remembering that Richard worked nights and Jay played basketball. I was always so proud of Tata, bragging to everyone I knew that my grandfather took university students abroad to study in Italy. I always held my head high while by his side; he was such a handsome and charming man, always returning a compliment with a compliment. I will be forever grateful to have been blessed with such a selfless, loving, and giving man as my grandfather, who held the key to my heart: food, compliments, and unconditional love - all of which he never failed to deliver.

May 2, 2015

From Mario's daughter, Monique Soria:
Dear Papi,
I love you because you still smile at every stranger you pass and say hi, how are you.
I love you because you still like to sit at your desk or at the dining room table and
organize things,
though now instead of drawing mountains, lakes, rivers and trees,
you color the flowers in a coloring book.
I love you because you sorted all the beautiful drawings you created by scratching colors
hidden underneath black paint and labeled the binder paintings for sale, $10 each.
I love you because you wanted to walk all the way to the top of Tumamoc, because you walked halfway up the first hill, because you walked to the bench near the gate and moved your walker to sit in the sun under the tree where you had a better view of the hill for your drawing.
I love you because you still straighten all the wrinkles in the sheets and make the bed as smooth as possible.
I love you because even though you don't exactly know who I am, you are happy to see me and take my hand to your lips to kiss it.
I love you because you sing in the morning.
I love you because you still reach for your pocket to pay when we eat out.
I love you because you were so smart in providing for your family, and now you are able to pay for assisted living in a nice place.
This morning I took an hour to read the Sunday paper and watch Sunday Morning on TV, and I felt sorry that you were not at home. I wondered again if it would be better to be at home, though it would mean round-the-clock help, and I thought of the attention you get from all the ladies where you live the kind-hearted caregivers who give you kisses and tell you how handsome you are, who sing to you and read you stories and dance with you. I remind myself of how hard it was and of all the risks for you in this house, but still I'm sorry.
I love you because you always try to help people, because you like people and want to talk to them and get to know them.
I love you because you are always busy, rearranging my cupboards or fixing the roof to the ramada or wiring the stereo or putting together the new dining room set.
I love you because you loved to make breakfast for everyone cheese omelets or pancakes on the griddle and always fresh-squeezed orange juice.
I love you because you knew the love of your life the minute you saw her.
I love you because family was always so important to you.
I love you because I know who you have been. Even people who only know you as you are now can tell that you were a very smart and interesting man. Those who speak to you in Spanish call you Don Mario.
Some days, you understand and can answer. You say you don't want any more at lunchtime, or that you don't want to go out. You say yes when I say it's a nice day, isn't it? You look up at the sky when I point to the clouds and the mountains. You tell me to turn right or to go and I say I have to wait till the light turns green, see the light?
I love you because you smiled and tapped your hand to the music at the Symphonic Winds concert on Veterans Day.
I love you because you smiled the whole time I brought your youngest great-grandchild with me to visit you. The two of you played xylophone together and took turns with the remote-controlled car. She gave you two hugs and kisses when we left.
I love you because you have loved me all my life real love that cares for and thinks of and does for, that keeps on even when names and relationships and memories have no meaning.