To my cousins, Lisa and Michael, my deepest sympathies. Lisa, you are an amazing person and an inspiration to all daughters! To my Aunt Marvel - you truly were a marvel in all ways! You were my God Mother and I was so lucky to have you in my life. You worked hard and faced many challenges, but never lost your zest for life or your interest in the people around you. You never missed a Birthday or a Christmas and I have so many wonderful memories of family dinners and cottage weekends (featuring your fabulous cooking!). You threw me memorable wedding and baby showers and then showed the same love and attention to my children! I will miss you Aunt M, until we meet again!
Your loving God Daughter,
Suzanne
My condolences on the passing of your mom, Lisa.
Ted
I worked with Marvel for 20 years at CCAS. She was such a lovely and kind person to her clients as well as to the staff. She loved to have a party and there were many occasions of celebration at the Etobicoke Branch. Her knowledge and skills as a social worker were exemplary. She inspired us to do the best for the families and children that we worked with no matter the circumstances. We shared many fascinating and challenging cases. May she rest in peace in this part of her life journey.
Whenever I think of Marvel, I have a flood of wonderful memories. Friend, mentor, fellow ballet lover. Friday nights at the Ballet Boutique, snack at Shopsy's after. "Marvel's Marvellous Moca" , fabulous food and desserts, her Jacques. Forever in my heart and memory, my condolences.
Among my earliest memories of Aunt Marvel are from the summer days I spent as a child at her beloved Rosseau cottage, sitting on the screened-in porch, listening to her chat with Granny while Lisa and I styled our hair in what we thought was a glamorous look with a dramatic side-part (Granny and Aunt Marvel said we looked like Sarah Bernhardt, who was of course a complete mystery to us, but we went with it anyhow.) We spent many happy evenings listening to the loons call, playing endless games of Rummoli, and exclaiming over the moths that Michael would catch in the spotlight over the door—until the night a bat flew in, which caused much shrieking and “hy-steria” until it was swatted out the door with a badminton racquet. In the mornings, Marvel’s adored and adoring French poodles breakfasted on lovingly prepared scrambled eggs and toast, while we ate freshly picked berries or sectioned grapefruit sprinkled with sugar as the hummingbirds sipped nectar from the feeder Aunt Marvel always kept full.
I cherish those childhood memories, and later moments, too, when we would visit as young adults, sitting with Aunt Marvel on the dock, watching in amazement as the chipmunks ate from her hand, and delighting in the gourmet dinners cooked on her vintage stove.
She was a woman of strength, grace, and intelligence—and style—supremely elegant, like the ballet dancers she so loved. Aunt Marvel was devoted to our family traditions, bringing us together year after year around the New Year’s table. She was also a person who could be counted upon, a woman of kindness and warmth, steadfast and loyal, and invariably ready with a cup of coffee and words of advice.
Aunt Marvel, I’ll miss you.
Love, Sharyn