Sara Cognetta

As a toy maker, many teased my Grandpa when my Mom was born, that she looked like a living baby doll. I have beautiful pictures of her with my Grandma in her rose garden with her arms wrapped around her beautiful “Rosaria”.

My Mom, Sara, as a teen worked in her Uncle’s dress shop, mostly she said to buy herself shoes. When high school graduation came, although she wanted to become a nurse, she went on to earn the equivalent of an associates degree in computer science. Soon after, she eloped with the fresh little neighborhood boy who lived down the block, and began working for Dr. Goldstein, assisting families through the adoption process.

When I was born, my Mom was a proud home maker who made crafts and wreaths to sell for extra money, and became a PTA president. Years later, when I was old enough, Mom returned to the work force as an inward freight manager for a shipping company.

My Mom was well respected in a male dominated field, and was known for the ability to politely re-direct as needed.

My Mom taught me to always have a resume handy, be professional, look them in the eye, and know your worth.

After my Dad passed, Mom enjoyed extra time with us, especially her beloved grandchildren. Grandmas house was always stocked with goodies and soda banned by Mom. Living next door, they had a short but concentrated memorable ten to twelve years together.

Almost all who met my Mother instantly loved her, recognized her kindness, generosity, loyalty, and accepted her friendship.

She loved lady bugs, pigs, her dog Holly, grand dogs, and to the horror of most, clown figures and creepy dolls. Mom did not have a green thumb, hated to iron, and was the first to admit she was “no Betsy Ross” when it cane to sewing, but made a mean fish salad on Christmas Eve, amazing fig cookies, and a respectable cheesecake.

She was the Thelma to my Louise, we fought hard, we made up and loved harder. The love my Mother has given to all is unmeasurable.

I am who I am today because of her. She taught me all I know, except how to live without her.

We will cherish her love and memories left behind, she will be deeply mourned and missed for the rest of my life.

My only consolation is that she is at peace, rest, and has returned home to the arms of God.

She is no doubt eating burgers and ice cream at a drive in with my Dad, in his red mustang, talking about the newest casino he can’t wait to show her.

Please guide, watch over, and protect us until we meet again. I love you too forever.