Marie C Moran

Born on November 5th 1931, in West Milford, New Jersey. Marie was born at home and delivered by her paternal grandmother as 1 out of 10 siblings. She was always a caregiver of others. From her five children to her great great-grandchildren. She worked as a caregiver of seniors at the Homestead Nursing Home in New Jersey and then as a caregiver to toddlers and babies at Roebuck Baptist Church Daycare in Pinson, Alabama.

She will be remembered as a strong, loving, independent, hardworking wife, mother, grandmother and Nana. Marie was loved by all. In her free time, Marie loved reading, crocheting, and cooking for others.

Along with her husband, Marie is predeceased by her brother, Arthur Sisco; her sisters, Laura Bales, Violet McCarty, Rachel Courtright, Sadie Repsher, and Florence Nespor; her son in law, David J. Pascocello; two great grandsons, Jarrett Johnson, and Jonathon Johnson; and her great-great granddaughter, Novalie Jade Keen.

Marie is survived by her children, Lois Pascocello, of Myrtle Beach, SC, Edward Moran, of North Norwich NY, Charles Moran, of North Norwich NY, Alice (Melvin) Kimble, of North Norwich NY, and Penny Johnson (Ray Thomas), of Hayden Alabama; 15 grandchildren; 56 great-grandchildren; 27 great-great grandchildren; and her sister, Isabelle Bales, of Tulare California.

As she wished, there will be no formal services.

Marie would like all donations to go to hospice and Palliative Care of Chenango County 33-39 court street Norwich NY 13815.

The Head Stone:

Don’t bury me up in that cemetery

Where I am just a name on a stone

Soon forgot and left alone

Where the acid rain will erase my name

And I will be just a number on a plot

Scatter part of me on that mountain top

To be part of that Majestic backdrop

And to mingle with the snowdrop

And take me to the woods

Where I can be part of the sapling

Then my cremation can become a creation

An oxygen emanating tree, breath giving and free

Take me to the meadow, I’ll be new grown grass

I’ll wave in the breeze as lovers pass

Or float me on the sea,

And let the sun glisten on me

Or cast me to the winds

So I can fly with the birds, give me wings.

Don’t bury up in that cemetery

I don’t want that to be my lot

I don’t want flowers, I know you care

For you were always there.

Spread me around, if that’s possible to do

But save some of me to be near you.

-Harry Taylor