From a daughter-in-law’s perspective…

It’s impossible to capture any one person perfectly, but this is my own brief remembrance of my mother-in-law, Maggie—a singular woman of great depth, contradictions, and quiet conviction, whom I was honored to have been embraced by for these past fifteen or so years.

Maggie was: Strikingly intelligent! Well traveled! Wonderfully musical! (She taught piano to Steven Tyler’s kids!) Earthy, yet cultured! She was funny in a way that could surprise you—dry, sometimes sharp, always perfectly timed. Really, she could land a one-liner like a pro, then go back to sipping her coffee like nothing happened. A salesman once called the house, and, hearing an elderly lady’s voice, asked to speak with the man of the house. She retorted: “I AM the man of the house!” and promptly returned to her cherished Boston Globe without batting an eye. 

She was fierce, yes, but also more tender than she often let on. I kind of thought of her as… cheerfully stoic. She could look unimpressed with just about anything you said or did, and then still warble a morning greeting as she made her way past you! 

She could be guarded, but never indifferent. She had strong opinions and wasn’t shy about them—and, lucky for me, they aligned very closely with my own. 🙂

Maggie was devoutly Catholic for most of her life. While she gradually moved away from the Church, she never walked away from its core principles: compassion, dignity, and justice. Those values remained deeply embedded in her. She and Joe Sr. fought for them together—not just in words, but in action. For equality and human rights, even when it placed them squarely in danger.

Maggie truly loved nature—animals, the outdoors—the kind of quiet that comes from being in the world rather than of it. An extension of that love was her enormous heart for children. Though she and Joe couldn’t have their own, they adopted four and fostered even more. Later in life, she absolutely delighted in doting on grandbabies. And then great-grandbabies. 👀 I mean, so many babies! 😂 But seriously, that tells you something about who she was: fierce, yes—but gentle and kind.

Now, I won’t pretend our relationship was always smooth. Like any two strong personalities, we … had our moments. I admired her greatly, but I also struggled with how she resisted help, and the strain that placed on Susan, Sheila and Joe. 

She valued her independence so highly, at one point a caretaker quipped that: her brain was writing checks that her body could no longer cash! 😬 

It was a mark of her grace that, when the time came, she did finally accept more support.

Through the years, she showed me great kindness. After I lost first my Mom, and then my Dad, Maggie extended a gentleness that wasn’t loud or performative, but heartfelt. Without any fuss, she made sure that I knew that she saw me. Over time, I came to appreciate just how much was going on beneath the surface. She was never just one thing. And I’m so very grateful I got to know her in all her nuance: proud, private, principled—sometimes prickly!🫢—but also loyal, caring, and very much her own person.

She taught me—perhaps without meaning to—how to listen better, how to hold my ground more gently, how to find grace in imperfection. Maggie was someone who loved deeply, even if she wasn’t always demonstrative. Someone who never stopped believing in a better world—and who lived her long life trying to make it so.

And I hope that’s how we’ll all remember her: as someone who contained multitudes: who was full of strength, conviction, courage, and—in her own way—full of love.

In addition to an enormous!—and enormously loving—family, she leaves behind a legacy of music, laughter, resilience, and strong coffee—and an indelible imprint on all who knew her.❤️

I found this poem a number of years ago and read aloud to Maggie – she really loved it then. I feel like it sort of embodies her outlook that we do need to pause and appreciate what’s around us from time to time…

Leisure – written in 1911 by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

–August 17, 2025