Dear Barbara,

Your mother obviously made connections in life that are worth more than any monetary value...She was blessed to have had you as a daughter and she blessed others with her graces.  May she rest in peace in the Kingdom of Heaven.



For Sue, With Love and Deep Gratitude

Who are these women who become our mothers?  So dignified and wise and loving, so small and mighty.

I always see Sue seated with ankles crossed above perfect little flats that don't touch the floor, hands folded in her lap, beautiful nails, flawless skin, composed.  She had an impeccability about her, about her appearance and about her person.  “Here is a woman I believe,” I would think, “someone I can trust.”  I never felt judged by Sue, I mostly felt loved by her, and every time we talked I came away more determined to be a better version of myself.  The version that she saw…the version she expected me to be.

Sue had an economy of speech, yet everything she ever said to me was either brilliant or hilarious or both.  And sometimes it was about the silence between the words.  This wasn't random or by accident, it was just her.  She was solid.  She was present.  Who would be foolish enough not to pay attention?

She once gave me some of the little red ribbons she stitched and filled with salt, then told me to pin it to the inside of my camisole to ward off the malocchio.  I wore them until the pin rusted and the salt leached out, because I knew that if Sue made it the thing would keep working no matter what.  Who would be crazy enough to doubt her?

Back in the ‘80's I took the ferry from Manhattan out to Staten Island to stay over with Barbara a few times.  Sue and Sal lived upstairs and every time I walked into that house it smelled like something delicious.  It was lasagna or meatballs in sauce, and despite being a vegetarian if Sue made it I ate it.  Why, you may be silly enough to ask?  Because Sue's cooking rocked my world.

Her strength sometimes took me by surprise.  On my last visit with Sue I was fortunate enough to get a little one-on-one time with her.  She got started talking about someone she felt had wronged her beautiful daughter and the air crackled with her ferocity.  Small and mighty.  Who would be stupid enough to cross her?

Sometimes, rarely, truth be told, you come upon a woman who is complete.  Sue was like that.  Her life, despite circumstances thrust upon her, was lived on her terms.  And you know what?  She was right.

Love,
Lisa

For Sue, With Love and Deep Gratitude

Who are these women who become our mothers?  So dignified and wise and loving, so small and mighty.

I always see Sue seated with ankles crossed above perfect little flats that don't touch the floor, hands folded in her lap, beautiful nails, flawless skin, composed.  She had an impeccability about her, about her appearance and about her person.  â€œHere is a woman I believe,â€ I would think, â€œsomeone I can trust.â€  I never felt judged by Sue, I mostly felt loved by her, and every time we talked I came away more determined to be a better version of myself.  The version that she sawâ€¦the version she expected me to be.

Sue had an economy of speech, yet everything she ever said to me was either brilliant or hilarious or both.  And sometimes it was about the silence between the words.  This wasn't random or by accident, it was just her.  She was solid.  She was present.  Who would be foolish enough not to pay attention?

She once gave me some of the little red ribbons she stitched and filled with salt, then told me to pin it to the inside of my camisole to ward off the malocchio.  I wore them until the pin rusted and the salt leached out, because I knew that if Sue made it the thing would keep working no matter what.  Who would be crazy enough to doubt her?

Back in the â€˜80's I took the ferry from Manhattan out to Staten Island to stay over with Barbara a few times.  Sue and Sal lived upstairs and every time I walked into that house it smelled like something delicious.  It was lasagna or meatballs in sauce, and despite being a vegetarian if Sue made it I ate it.  Why, you may be silly enough to ask?  Because Sue's cooking rocked my world.

Her strength sometimes took me by surprise.  On my last visit with Sue I was fortunate enough to get a little one-on-one time with her.  She got started talking about someone she felt had wronged her beautiful daughter and the air crackled with her ferocity.  Small and mighty.  Who would be stupid enough to cross her?

Sometimes, rarely, truth be told, you come upon a woman who is complete.  Sue was like that.  Her life, despite circumstances thrust upon her, was lived on her terms.  And you know what?  She was right.

Love,
Lisa

A Tribute to Sue Locastro
Sue Locastro was quite a woman.  She was a stellar example of grace.  She lived through tough times and could teach us a thing or two of what's important in life.  She liked to keep things simple but unfortunately she was faced with having to adapt to all of the new technological inventions that are now part of everyday life.  Her older model TVs and phones were simple to use and it frustrated her when she couldn't get things to operate.  She often wondered why things had to change when they worked just fine in the olden days.   But she had no choice but to go with the flow, so to speak. 
 
Her appearance was impeccable, her manner was quiet, and her home was never in disarray.  It was meticulous.  She chose to keep things she cherished.  She wasn't interested in replacing items because they were new on the market.  She bought the best she could afford and appreciated the quality of her purchases.  She wanted things to last—and they did!

Her favorite pastime was reading, favoring the books over whatever was on television.  I bet her initials can be found in hundreds of books in the library.  This was her way of reminding her if she had already read the book!  I would marvel at the number of books she would read in one week—it was hard to make sure she always had enough to read.

She liked cooking her own food rather than eating out in restaurants—the food could never compare to what she could make.  When I took her out to eat one evening, she remarked there was nothing to eat at the restaurant.  I was puzzled and remarked there were hundreds of items to choose from—but to her, it wasn't about gobbling down food that was prepared with way too much spice.  It was about enjoying simple, healthful food that she could prepare for herself at home.

She had one child, a daughter, Barbara, who she adored and whom she worried about her always having too much to do.  She would tell me how people would always admire Barbara when she was a little girl because of the way she was dressed.  Nothing was too good for Barbara, and Sue loved showing me the photos of her in those outfits.  I am willing to bet that Sue herself would spend less on her clothing than on what she bought for her daughter.  
 
Sue was like a second mother to me, having lost my own mother in 1997.  I enjoyed taking her shopping and watching her load those boxes and bags of candies into her shopping cart.  We would stroll through the aisles of grocery stores, dollar stores and shoe stores.  It was a chore for her to find shoes she liked because of those damn rubber soles they now have on the bottom of most shoes, and I agree with her.  Out of the hundreds of shoes at DSW, there may have been only one or two pairs that she would consider—and even then she was apprehensive.  Why couldn't they make shoes like before she would remark.  My comment to her was they just don't make things they way they used to—we both believed that quality was sometimes sacrificed for the sake of profit.  And because this new generation demands change so we are continually bombarded with more and more STUFF, which we think we need.  But Sue had it right—she didn't need more STUFF.  She appreciated what she had.  When you think about it, she had it all—a life that was simple but well lived.  

I will miss Sue.  She would always call me to see how Tom and I were doing.  I would always tell her that when I got a chance, I would take her shopping again.  And she would wait patiently while I tried to squeeze 48 hours of projects, etc. into the 24 hours that I had each day.  I should take heed of Sue's example and learn to live simply!

God Bless you Sue.  You were an inspiration!  May your soul rest in peace.

Dear Barbara and Roland
Our heart aches for you during this difficult time.  Aunt Sue was such an special person and she will truly be missed.
Our condolences, Tami, Jeff, Alyssa, Matt

Barbara & Roland - Our sincerest condolences on the passing of your mother, Barbara.  I know how difficult this is, especially being an only child like me.  Please know that our prayers & thoughts are with you.  Rachel & Bob Lepree

Barbara, Words fall short of expressing our sorrow for your loss. Your Mom will be in our hearts forever.  Love, Uncle Tony. Aunt Jennie, Mark, Tami, Gina and Families.

OBITUARY

Susan Locastro

Passed away on 17 APRIL, 2012

Virginia Funeral Chapel

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