CAROLE MARCELY
09/24/1941 - 09/25/2022
Carole Marcely, a loving wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, passed away on September 25th ; her last moments were peaceful ones in her home, a place filled with comforting memories for her, and next to the love of her life, James A. “Jim” Marcely. Her passing leaves us at a loss, grieving, but we take solace in knowing that she has gone to be reunited with her parents and brother, who predeceased her, all of them happily together again.
She was dedicated to her family and all of us-- Jim, Jennie, Doug, Thuy, Tim, Mike, Paul, Natalie, Brandon, and little Eliza-- enjoyed her warmth, love, and encouragement. She was a steadying force in our lives who exhibited and fostered timeless values in the midst of an ever-changing world with a spirit that was nurturing, heartening, and optimistic. I was Dougabutu for reasons only the two of us knew, always uttered with a chuckle, Jennie was Jen, always said with a big smile and a tone of expectation, Natalie was Nat, spoken with eager anticipation, and the baby, Eliza, was affectionately called Little E, said slowly, with tender care. Each was said as an introduction personal and inviting that would initiate time together and moments that were cherished. She was always eager for a life update, curious, listening intently with a furrowed brow and a slight tilt of her head as we talked of work and family in response to her questions.
She took great delight in family gatherings, eager to hear the latest of politics but most intent when matters regarding relationships and parenting arose. She remembered the larger sweep of our lives but also the smaller details that revealed something of us individually; her gifts showed thought and care and most often encouraged us to embrace joys particular and unique to us.
She was a devoted and demanding parent to us, her kids, Doug and Jennie. She set high standards, pushed us to be our best, and yet consoled us in our disappointment and pushed us to persevere. Her way with us changed as we aged and joined her in adulthood, becoming more reflective and, at times, introspective, but it never stopped being attentive, caring, with a hint of worry, and always included offers to share in our setbacks and eagerness to rejoice in our successes.
Her marriage to James A. Marcely, Jim or Commander to us, brought her contentment, peace, and security in an enduring love affair of over 32 years. It was with
Jim that she shared many of the happiest years of her life, walking together in parks in Colorado Springs with their beloved dog, Buddy, and sharing meals on their deck, swept by cool breezes, relaxing, with a view of the purple mountain’s majesty of Pikes Peak, and enjoying visits from their kids over the summers. She respected Jim for his commitment to greater causes of patriotism, service, family and faith. She treasured their partnership and that spirit of togetherness and teamwork that they shared whether working in their yards, running their homes, caring for parents, or on visits to see family. So many of our memories of her are ones with Jim by her side both of them smiling, her happiness abundantly evident.
She had a special relationship with her father, Artie Quintus Cato, who was a man of few words but deeply held values that he shared with her, and all of us in the family, by living them, demonstrating them in meaningful and instructive ways. His was a quiet assured confidence in a way of living that was centered on hard work, providing for family, and traditional values of honesty, thrift, and delayed gratification. Theirs was a special father-daughter relationship and for those who knew both of them it was obvious how profound and meaningful their connection had been for her and how much she learned from him and his way.
She also took great pride in her successful career at Baylor College of Medicine, a career she embraced when single parenthood was thrust upon her. She found that she had talents previously unknown that enabled her to be successful in work. She rose to a managerial role in the admissions office at a time when many fewer women than today had the opportunity to be leaders. She proved to be a capable administrator who ran the office efficiently and earned the respect of the senior leadership of the College and she was a devoted mentor who helped those she managed develop their skills and better themselves professionally.
She loved home too and was deeply devoted to a place, University Oaks. It was here where she was born in, in September of 1941 to Dr. and Mrs. A. Q. Cato when it was a newly planned subdivision on the outskirts of Houston. Rabbits scurried in the underbrush and kids scampered in play among the newly built homes, shaded by huge old oaks. She felt the sustaining love and comforting embrace of parents, her brother Hank, and her grandparents, who lived on Harvest, all close by. It would be in this neighborhood where she would meet her first husband, Hellmut, while on summer break from college, who was delivering flowers to a neighbor but instead took them to her after seeing her in the bay window at home. She would settle with him after they were married to live in the neighborhood, on Varsity, to have children and raise a family blocks away from her parents, as hers had done before her, to have her kids play too under the oaks and to know their grandparents as she had known hers. And it would be in University
Oaks where she would find the courage to raise her kids as a single mom, taking on homeownership and leaving behind stay-at-home motherhood for the workforce, all done to keep her house, and make a home for herself and her kids. And after those kids left home to pursue their lives she remained in her home, drawing strength from the place, filled with reflections that bolstered her, visiting her parents still in the neighborhood. And after falling in love with Jim and living in Colorado for a time she returned home, called back by a sense of duty and dedication to her parents when their health began to fail, moving back into her home on Varsity with Jim, caring for parents as hers had done before her. Together, Carole and Jim cared for her parents, helping them stay in their home, and when this was no longer possible, sharing time with them daily until they passed away. And it would be in her home, in the neighborhood, as her own health failed, cared for by Jim, now joined in University Oaks by her son and his wife, Thuy, and a granddaughter, Natalie, her husband, Brandon, and Little E, living close by, that she had come full circle, from child to grandparent and great-grandparent, from youth to age, under the shade of the old oaks, with the memories of family, now to become a memory herself.