A Eulogy for Grace Ann (Scozzari) McNulty, delivered by Karen Walsh, her daughter, 3/1/2024 Welcome, everyone. Thank you for coming. The start of this might seem a little strange, but bear with me… Sesame Street debuted in 1969. One of my favorite segments featured a little boy who’d been separated from his mother. He kept telling the people trying to help him that his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. They brought him to exotic princesses and movie stars, but to each he’d say, “She’s not my mother. My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world.” When, finally, a poor woman in a worn shawl came by, the two ran into one another’s arms. “You see,” the boy said, “my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!” From that day forward, I knew the meaning of beauty and it was my mother. If you look at the old photos, you’ll see she could have been a starlet. But her true beauty came from inside. She was spirited, smart, a defender and protector, filled with grace — appropriately — and incredibly strong. The youngest of three sisters, she may have been a little spoiled. When struck with rheumatic fever as a kid she was kept out of school for a year (or maybe more?). She also knew how to spoil others. She showered love on her pets — cats and dogs. And when her sisters got married and had children, Grace became a doting aunt. Even after graduating from Evander Childs High School, she reveled with a tight-knit group of girlfriends — several of whom I spoke with this week. “Oh, we had such fun,” they said. She was reminiscing recently as we were looking through albums filled with snaps from their trips to Orchard Beach, the Catskills, and Washington, DC. On one two-page spread with a caption about Thomas J. McNulty, all the pictures were missing. She explained that she’d moved them to a new album — the start of a new life. They’d met while she was working as a secretary in Manhattan. He was an elevator operator in the building, working his way through Fordham University. He used to say she handed him a stick of gum and he got stuck on her. When they were first married, they lived in awe of the sunsets from their second-story apartment overlooking the Clearview Expressway. After a few years, once my brother, Chris, and I were born, we moved to the house in Great Neck that my mom would call home for the next 50 years. They hosted the best parties for both sides of the family and became active, engaged community members. Mom served on the Civic Association, the PTA (as president my senior year in high school), and more. Neighbors could count on seeing her working at the polls every election day, reporting for duty before dawn and returning after 9:30 pm. With Chris, she won a mother/son bowling event at Lakeville School, and pitched in coaching Little League when my dad couldn’t make a game. In the summers, she became a fixture at Parkwood Pool, shuttling me and my friends as a “swim team mom,” getting in her 10-15 laps, and building more lifelong friendships. She also worked for many years as a legal secretary, for long stints at Little Neck Realty and shorter ones at various law firms. She was smart and detail-oriented and a stickler for grammar — and, unsurprisingly, a huge fan of Jeopardy, a killer Scrabble player, and a champion cheerleader for her children’s education. When she felt our family was threatened by my father’s drinking, she bravely stood her ground, giving him a calm, cool, collected ultimatum that ultimately saved him, and us. My mother lamented that their best years had just begun — watching us kids graduate from college, Chris meeting and marrying Terry, me moving out on my own and pursuing my science writing career — when my dad unexpectedly fell ill and died from lung cancer just six weeks after his first symptoms started. He and she were only 53. For reference, I’m nearly 60 now. We held his wake in this very room. I can’t imagine the strength it took for her to go on. It was a struggle, but she did, with the help of my uncles and aunts, cousins, neighbors, and friends. She got involved in book clubs; “I finally have time to read,” she said. We knew she’d fully welcomed my husband, Brian, into her life when she told him with a smile that he was “bad,” just like me and Chris and Terry, for telling her like it is. She thoroughly enjoyed her grandchildren, Lauren, Matthew, and Stephen, watching and helping them grow from babies into smart, compassionate, and empathetic young adults. And she took her love for animals to exponential dimensions, adopting first two kittens, then another, and spaying/neutering and otherwise caring for a pack of neighborhood strays. She never even wanted to kill a spider but would rather capture it and set it free. Leaving the sliding door open so the kitties could come and go, she once found three baby racoons nibbling at the cat food in her kitchen. Somehow, she simply grabbed a broom and undoubtedly gave the bandits names before sweeping them out the door! Brian swears she told him that all three went upstairs! When her walking deteriorated beyond the point of being dangerous, she reluctantly agreed to leave her house. The heartbreak was real, but she took two cats with her and was quickly embraced by new friends and Scrabble partners, first at Atria Bay Shore, then a few years later, Brightview in Sayville. Like the high school friends I’ve spoken with this week, many of the friends she’s met since joining these communities have called her the best friend they’ve ever had. “Oh, we had such fun!” The last seven months were brutal: a hospitalization followed by a 12-week stint in rehab removing her abruptly from that circle of friends and her cat, Starry Knight. We were lucky to find a place that could meet her growing need for care and where she could keep him by her side. With her body failing, she lost much, but never her grace or graciousness. She always uttered “Thank you, dear,” to the aides and nurses. They all said how sweet she was and that they truly loved her. She replied to every “I love you” we uttered with a cheery “I love you too.” Towards the end, she had some beautiful visions, and plans. She saw her sister Theresa and husband Mickey dancing surrounded by pink streamers. She said she’d been walking — and driving! And she talked of parties! “Who should we invite?” she asked. I told her, anyone you want, of course — so you are all invited. Mom, we all are here because we love you and we’ve been blessed by your friendship and your grace. We are forever grateful for your many gifts. Oh, we had such fun. You are the most beautiful woman in the world. May you rest in peace.

Deareast Karen, Brian, Stephen and family/friends: What a beautiful life story about your Mom/ Grandmother. She sounded like a fun and smart woman and especially loving. At this time of grief, take some comfort in knowing Grace is in heaven and suffers no more. She is at peace and will be your forever angel. You are in my thoughts, heart and prayers today . 🙏🏻🩵

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