“Ask yourself who you’d want to spend the last day of your life with and then meet with them as often as you can.” Warren Buffett

It's all in the past now. How can that be.

Ann Margaret Gawel-Dombrowik born May 1963; is gone May 14, 2024.

Born and raised in Meriden, Connecticut. Beloved wife of Daniel Dombrowik for 29 years, a Middletown resident since returning from their honeymoon out West.

Mother of Victoria Lynn, the light of her life, their life.

Ann Margaret (yes, named for the actress at birth, because a boy had been expected and a Parade magazine provided the inspiration); a professional career notable as she rose from an insurance clerk at Connecticut Mutual to Senior Underwriter at Knights of Columbus. The rise included Underwriting Consultant, Ibu; Underwriting Director Reliastar/Security CT; Brokerage Underwriter, Phoenix Home Life; Life Underwriter, Mass Mutual.

But.

She wanted to be a master gardener, to answer questions, help people and plants, seeds and worms grow. She counted on more time, and time ran short.

Volunteer service in the community did include much of her work: Connecticut Forest and Park Association, No Child Left Indoors, other programs connecting people, especially school-age humans to the environment and the state's wealth of parks, trails, botanical and historical information.

Middlesex Healthcare Center, with facility's vegetable and flower gardens, organized and lead art, craft, and cooking programs for residents.

Girl Scout leader; troop achieved the Silver Star award with her guidance.

PTA. Parent volunteer, Opportunity Knocks, Collaborative Care Program, Middletown; she named the dental program which provided health and dental care for the city's school-age children.

Durham Agriculture Fair.

Her eulogy, worth repeating:

If you’re here, you know Ann Margaret Gawel-Dombrowik. (Marph to family, long-time friends), Mom. Sister, wife, mother, lover, daughter. A giver, underwriter, gardener, helper. A dedicated volunteer in the community for Connecticut Forest and Park Association, as a Girl Scout leader, Durham Fair volunteer, and so much more. A passionate voracious reader and gardener.

Friend.

To encourage people, give hope and love, help each grow — that’s her.

To take her in full prime of life, cruel. To see the moments of love, be a witness, during these last days of her being taken away, holy. Those who love her honored her with their care, tenderness, every action in her best interest, to comfort, but not let her suffer. And yet. (Please let the suffering stop as her body failed, but not her spirit.)

She said in a whisper of a voice after that stroke had her brought upstairs, and diminished her body but not the essence of Marph—yes, her speech was shaved down but she made herself known, talked in whispery voice, this: “life is sharing. Sharing. Sharing.”

Then later, from seemingly nowhere “hot tar at the beach. One of the best smells.” And a smile, her eyes closed.

Later asked if I knew the bookshop in Cheshire—the one in Clocktower Shops with the people developmentally different but so kind— yes she nodded. Asked Do you like it? She nodded, “yes, yes.” (It’s called ReRead Books.)

She loved growing plants, people. Helping, listening. Music.

The color red and black, her kitties present and past. Her Lucy, gone but never forgotten. Ella— though Ella has chosen to be Daniel’s dog.

Ella, the family’s black Labrador with her webbed feet, Ann Margaret saved by not giving up on her.

Did you know that? In the early days as a growing once feral farm-pup, Ella growled at Marph in her work room upstairs at home, and scared the heck out of Marph who then carefully spider climbed over the bed and out of the room.

No friendly growl, this was the real thing. And she and Daniel considered re-homing Ella.

Consulting with the vet, and told realistically that Ella’d probably be put down, because of these issues, they got a trainer and worked to civilize Ella.

It’s every day, small ways. Ann Margaret committed to Ella, kept going.

Just so you know when you see Ella now. She still has her guarding grumps, but she is understood, she is loved, and she is home.

That is but one moment in the life of this human we all love so very much. Her container may be here without her now, but recently we talked and talked and talked about where do we go after our life is done? Where are we before we are born? Yes, conceived and we all get a container to grow, live, move about—but where is that essence that is us before? And where after life is gone?

Now she knows.

And what a life.

She jumped off tree platforms to plunge into cold springs in Florida, had ocean seaweed fights, helped pick hooves of horses, Penny, drove to Virginia, Marylad. She had a story to tell her entire life with a name like hers.

Her love of travel took her all over the continent. At first, driving herself to visit family; then with Daniel at the wheel, trips to their beloved Acadia Park in Maine; Chincoteague; their recent jaunt (2022/3?) to EAA AirVenture Oshkosh, then dipping her toes in all Great Lakes and north across Canada. 

Toured the continent with her Daniel, who she met at a dance, came home singing “I Could’ve Danced All Night” — so very happy.

“In sickness and in health til death do you part…”

A long and devoted relationship, they would have celebrated their 30th anniversary in November.

Ann Margaret’s love?

A verb. Not passive, action, active. Give, help, Listen.

There’s so much more …and each of you have stories, experiences, parts of her.

Giving herself to each of you. Time shared. Adventures. Gifts.

My muse.

She brings the words, sparks ideas. I could go on and on (and many of you know this) about her, my friend, my sister, I love her so. No one like her, no one even close. I told her so. The whole universe would have to pass and be remade for another person to be such as she is was and will be.

Will share a passage she cherished, it’s from Our Town by Thornton Wilder.

Emily is the main character and she is granted a visit back to view parts of her life from her where she sits with others after death in the town cemetery.

Emily gets her wish to view her family but as she cannot interact with anyone; it’s poignant, painful.

And this is the part Marph loved:

“Emily: I can’t bear it. They’re so young and beautiful. Why did they ever have to get old? Mama, I’m here. I’m grown up. I love you all, everything. – I can’t look at everything hard enough. Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me.

“Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I’m dead. You’re a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally’s dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it – don’t you remember?

“But, just for a moment now we’re all together. Mama, just for a moment we’re happy. Let’s look at one another.

“I can’t. I can’t go on. It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. I didn’t realize. All that was going on in life, and we never noticed. Take me back – up the hill – to my grave.

“But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners. Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking. And Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths. And sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute?

“Stage Manager: No. The saints and poets, maybe they do some.

“Emily: I’m ready to go back. I should have listened to you.”

By the way, Paul Newman played the stage manager, he loved this play too.

So.

Love to you all in her name because of her life and her gifts to us. Take that love and do something with it in her memory, share, help, grow, spread the light she was and gave away, lived. Prickles, failings, mistakes and all the achievements—her, each of us.

Love you Marph. Until we are together again.

Thank you for everything. (Yes, I told her all this when she could hear me, many times.)

Always.

———–

P.S. As she was a Jeopardy fan, she would want you to know that scallops eyes are blue. She was so easy to love, cultivated friends as she did gardens–abundantly.

Kathy Mattea, 455 Rocket, seeing her live at the Oakdale. Hal Ketchum at Riverside.

And this:

“But the dream that makes the sparrow fly can make an eagle fall
And one that makes the rich man money, it ain't no dream at all
It's a cryin' shame to wake up just to find it's all been broke in two
Careful what you're dreamin', 'cause it someday may come true.”

Source: LyricFind. Songwriters: Hal Ketchum. Some Place Far Away lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.

Editor's note: This story has been updated on her birthday.