Rosemarie McGuigan

Rosemarie McGuigan of Hasbrouck Ave., Kingston died Monday, August 9, 2010 at Kingston Hospital. She was 64. She was born in Far Rockaway, a daughter of the late Dominick Vitale and her foster mother Virginia McKenna. For many years Mrs. McGuigan lived on Long Island. She previously worked as a hair dresser at J.C. Penney. A Kingston resident since 2007, Mrs. McGuigan volunteered at The Queen's Galley. Surviving are her beloved friend, Frank Nazarro of Kingston, three daughters Diane Reeder of Kingston, Valerie Allbright of Floral Park and Maureen Texidor of Garden City; one son Daniel Carroll, USAF, Florida; her husband Thomas McGuigan; three brothers Dominick and Nicholas Vitale both of Queens and Harold "Buddy" McKenna of Pennsylvania; two sisters Patricia Vitale and Susan Plant; six grandchildren Samantha, Kayla, Nicholas, Olivia, Megan and Caitlin. Reposing at the Simpson - Gaus Funeral Home, 411 Albany Ave. on Saturday from 11:00 - 12:00 p.m. A Funeral Service will be conducted by Rev. Darlene Kelley. Cremation will be in Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery. The following is the speech that Diane Reeder gave at her mother's funeral service.... Things my mother taught me My mother taught me patience by giving me opportunities to lose my temper. My mother taught me that there is still value in being part of a family, even if it is broken. My mother taught me that it is ok to fall in love even if it means discovering heartbreak. My mother taught me that forgiveness of a person is possible even if they make unforgiveable choices. My mother taught me that compassion means more than giving a person a handout. Sometimes it means giving them a kick in the ass. My mother taught me that rules exist for a reason and when we forget to follow them we lose our course in more ways than one. My mother taught me that the degree of wealth a person has is not measured by how much they have, but by what percentage of what they have that is given away to help others. My mother taught me that not only is it ok to have dessert before dinner but that some days it's really ok to have dessert FOR dinner. My mother taught me to cherish the time I have with my children because some mothers are not so fortunate to have that blessing. My mother taught me that the moment I start to take myself too seriously is the moment when others will not take me seriously at all. My mother taught me that when I needed to find someone to blame for something I had done, all I need do was look in the mirror. My mother taught me that it is possible for an ex husband to be a good father and a miserable choice for a mate at the same time, and yes, still be a very good person. My mother taught me not to be overly concerned with having "more" by reminding me that there were times when we didn't have 'enough". My mother taught me not to sweat the small stuff. When something looks like a crisis, evaluate it by asking if life, safety, security or reputations are in jeopardy. It may be just a molehill in the clothes of a mountain. My mother taught me that just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD do it. My mother taught me that it is far better to have a knife callous on my hand than a callous on my heart. My mother taught me that it is better to be an hour early than a minute late, but if you're late be prepared to make a damn good entrance. My mother taught me to be grateful for friends who have not only given me joy but to those who have received joy from me without my ever expecting something in return. My mother taught me the value of a good meal is determined not by how much food is on the plate but by how much love is gathered around the table. My mother taught me many things; sometimes by example and often by example of what not to do. I am grateful for every lesson learned and hope that I can help teach a lesson here today. My mother dreamed of sharing her dining table with all of her children and grandchildren and asking simply, "Please pass the peas". Her dream never became reality and now any opportunity for that to come to fruition is lost for her. Just outside the door to this room I have placed packets of garden pea seeds. I encourage you to take one. Plant them. Grow them. Harvest them. Call someone with whom you have not spoken for too long or someone with whom you need to make amends. Invite them for dinner and pass the peas.