~ Contributed by Laura Bullock
Writing a tribute to Lisa is like trying to trap sunlight in a bottle. How in the world could I do her justice? It’s impossible to say what she meant to each and every one of us, but I hope I captured the essence of how extraordinary this woman was.
Lisa loved writing thank-you notes and sending cards, making candied pecans, eating salads, wearing chunky necklaces, volunteering for EVERYTHING, running, walking (very fast), pushups and burpees, her friends, and commenting on every friend’s Facebook post – not just liking – but commenting. She wasn’t a big fan of dogs and cats but if you needed help with letting your puppy out for a noon walk, she’d be the one you could count on. She loved nagging her husband about having the guys over – again; sitting in her healing garden, reading a book or recommending a book, babies, the beach, Pirates with eyelashes, her dinner club, corn-hole, playing Bunco; drinks at the barn, telling you that her house had been struck by lighting, Cayman Island’s, St Paul’s Church and nursery school, Summit Health and Fitness. She would be there for your triumphs and cry with you over a loss – she would feel that pain so deeply. Nothing made her happier than watching her boys play sports, and she would cheer on everyone’s child as well, not just her own. She’d support her friends’ endeavors and those of their children too, no matter the event. There was no bigger cheerleader than Lisa.
Lisa swooned over Patrick Dempsey. Her “Women of Steal” team would join her each September for a 10K to raise money for The Dempsey Center. She loved going to the movies, traveling with friends to the US Open, watching “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel ”, cheering on the Red Sox and Celtics and Tom Brady; her job and coworkers, filing her nails at a stop sign, smoothies from Pressed, getting together with her college roommates and childhood friends; skiing, waterskiing, hiking, and donning her wetsuit to swim in the waters off Chatham. Sharks knew better than to mess with Lisa.
She was deeply devoted to her mom, dad, four sisters, and their families. Annual sister’s weekend and summer family reunions at Brant Lake were the highlight of her year. We all wanted to be a member of the Marino family! She supported her friends in their endeavors and if you were looking for an honest answer to a question you better be ready to receive it. This fall my daughter asked Lisa to help her pick out a dress for an upcoming event. When she walked out with one of the dresses on, Lisa asked where the rest of it was. Enough said.
She questioned everything and she remembered everything. Your children’s names, where they were going to school, who their teacher was. She would attend the Davis School Halloween Parade and wave at each child as she called out to them by name. If your child needed a job she would see who she could connect them with, and heaven forbid if you had a son who was single – she’d want to see a photo so she could figure out whose daughter she could match him up with. She loved her doctors and nurses and kept in special contact with the infamous Dr. Jason Moran and his wife (who just happened to have been one of Lisa’s nurses). Just days before she passed, she had a FaceTime call to thank them for taking such good care of her, asking about their two children and beaming with joy when she discovered that they were pregnant again. One of Lisa’s goals was to be well enough to volunteer on the Oncology Floor at Beth Israel, bringing coffee, tea, and comfort to other patients. She wanted to give back.
And then there was her storytelling ability. It was legendary. Lucille Ball had nothin’ on Lisa. She would tell us about the most mundane happening, (her latest mammogram or an encounter at the grocery store), and it would turn into an event of epic proportions. By the time she finished telling it the first time, you were holding your sides from laughing so hard – and it was game over if she could interject an accent as well. And then she would tell the story again. A few less words this time, with more theatrics and facial expressions thrown in. And without skipping a beat, she’d launch into a third telling. This time full of wide-eyed facial expressions and dramatic hand gestures – no words would be needed. After a Lisa story, you were never the same again.
Oh, how she loved her three boys Clayton, Justin, and Nolan. If we were gathering at a friend’s house and one of her boys was home alone, she would leave to make them dinner or sit to watch a movie or sports. She would rather be with them than anywhere else in the world. Her devotion was humbling. She was busting with pride at all their accomplishments and how they were growing up to be such amazing young men. Even though she wouldn’t allow the kids to get a pet dog she did let Denard, the Bedford Day goldfish, reside on her kitchen counter. And much to her chagrin, he lived for what seemed like forever.
Her husband Brad met her at a wedding and fell in love with Lisa instantly (who didn’t?) After their marriage in 1993, they lived in her favorite city Chicago. Brad’s job landed them in Bedford 20 years ago which was a stroke of luck for our little town. They did everything together and were such a good match, although when he worked from home she wished he was traveling, and when he was traveling she wished he worked from home. She was always telling me how handsome she thought her husband was. She loved the life you two created.
She wasn’t perfect, but I dare you to find a person on this earth who had a bad word to say about Lisa, although she’d say that couldn’t possibly be true. Wife. Mother. Daughter. Sister. Aunt. Niece. Daughter-In-Law. Godmother. Sister-In-Law. Friend. Neighbor. Babysitter. Co-worker. Volunteer. Advocate. Second-Mom to many. Laughter. Honesty. Grace. Strength. Resilience. Courage. Opinionated. Persistent. Selfless. Humble. Wise. Thoughtful. Stubborn. Devoted. Deep, all-encompassing love.
Her hair.
Her smile.
Thank you, Lisa, for coming into our lives. Our hearts ache at the emptiness from losing you. My wish is that each one of us can take a quality of yours and weave it into our own lives. Then you will continue to live on, making our world a better place, one smile, one fundraiser, one thank you note, one joke, one candied pecan at a time.
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