Mary A Rothwell

I worked with Mary years ago and she was such a wonderful person. Always smiling. I remember us having a good laugh one time when she was pregnant and working our little counter and an older women thought that was just terrible she should be put in the back of the room for no one to see. I also would like to extend my condolences to her family her children, grandchildren, and siblings. Our families came from the same farming community. I know she will be greatly missed. Karen Grady Pautzke

After we graduated high school, Mary and I and a few others hung out at Rusty's. She did love to dance! I still remember when she and Dennis were dating.

My sincere sympathy to the Rothwell family. I worked with Mary many moons ago at the State. She was always a delight to be around. That picture and her smile remind me of how sweet and fun she was as a friend and co-worker. Peace, Mary - you will be missed by so many. Randi

Sending my deepest condolences to Mary's husband, Dennis, and their family. I also worked with Mary for many years and enjoyed talking with her about her family. She is sure to live on in the memories of the family members and friends she leaves behind. Mary, may you rest in peace. Luvonn

Dear Meagan and family, We are so sorry to hear about the loss of your dear, sweet, and beautiful mom! The obituary is a wonderful tribute of her amazing life! Wishing you peace. George and Margaret Georgia

What I shared at my mom’s celebration of life. Thank you everyone for being here. As most of you know, I’m Michelle, Mary’s daughter, as if you can’t tell by looking at me. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m up here doing this. Ironically, a year ago to the date, I answered the call from my dad saying, “your mother has a brain tumor, she’s so scared”. I had been at the ER earlier that day with them because my mom was having dizzy spells. Mom, being the strong person she was, sent me home and told me she’d be fine, and to go home and get some sleep. I rushed back to St. Marys after my dads call, to help get her settled into room 7626. Things forever changed. I’m not going to focus too much on the stressful, heart-wrenching last year, but it was such an eye-opening voyage, teaching me what really matters in life. Doctor Appointments. Surgery. Chemo. Radiation. Optune. Then Hospice. My mom handled all of this with dignity and optimism. She never felt sorry for herself, in fact, she felt sorry for others. She would comment about the “poor” other people in the waiting rooms. We knew when we received the definitive diagnosis of glioblastoma, it was terminal. We didn’t know the exact timeline, but we knew it would never get better. What the heck is glioblastoma? I had never really heard of it, even after being a nurse for so many years. Well, now I know more about it than I’d ever like to. My mom grabbed on to the less than 5%, five year survival rate, and clung to it. She stayed positive, and truly believed she’d be a long term survivor. She was so good at portraying that, sometimes I believed it too. We had many good talks over the past year that I will forever cherish. This last month my mom couldn’t always get her words out correctly, if even at all. The conversations were less and less, but they say communication is over 90% non verbal, and I know our quietness together was all love. My mom was a kind hearted, funny, hard working, humble, adventurous woman. I’d come home from work sometimes to find my laundry folded or garden raked and weeded, or new flowers planted, and knew my mom had been there. She loved flowers and plants. She loved getting her hands in the dirt. There were no garden gloves for that lady. Even over the last year of being sick and weak, she planted. My mom had a shovel and bucket in her car trunk, and would dig flowers from random places to transplant, just like her mom did. Hopefully I’m not ratting them out for any laws that may have broken over time. My point is; she loved the earth, she loved creating beauty, and I will always see my mom in every flower, especially if red. My mom had a few other passions aside from gardening; including traveling, reading, and music. By far though, her greatest passion in life was her family. She did everything for her family. She absolutely put herself last. Growing up it was “dinner on the table at six” and you’d better best be there. Through the years she was always there; listening, reassuring, and comforting all of us, and It only intensified after I became a mother myself. I spoke to my mom mostly every day, and saw her almost as frequently. It’s just never, ever, enough. I’d call her up randomly and ask, “do you want to go on a hike?” or “can you come over?” Yep. She’d be there. She was my best friend. A true story that really defines my mom. After waking up from brain surgery, the recovery room nurse put my mom on the phone with my dad, and what was the first thing she said? “Did you get something to eat yet?”. Like I’ve said, everyone else before her, and after all she’d been with my dad for nearly 50 years. I don’t know how I’m going to do this thing called “life” without her, but like the advice I give to so many others, I will take things one day at a time. If my mom had any faults, they were being too caring or too giving, or worrying too much. She passed those traits right on down to me. Thanks Ma. I could talk all evening, because there is so much I want to share, and let others know about my wonderful mom, but I won’t. So instead for the rest of my life, I will share little stories here and there when I can without crying, rather than try to cram more into one speech. So here’s to you Mom, otherwise known to me as the OG farm babe. I love everything about you. I will constantly miss you and will always honor you. You’re forever beautiful inside and out. Thank you for being my mom, and the wonderful nana to my children.