Carol Ann Maxwell

A Mass of Christian Burial was said recently at St. Mary of the Annunciation in Charleston, South Carolina for the passing of Carol Maxwell.

Carol Maxwell of Charleston, South Carolina formerly of East Greenwich was the daughter of the late Walter (PPD) and Louise (Hayden) Shunney. Her husband of 37 years, John J. Maxwell, Jr. preceded her in death in 1994 on Mother’s Day. Carol was a dual citizen of Ireland and for as long as we can remember our mother attended daily Mass. We proudly say, our mother was a tradwife; our father a proper gentleman. Her eldest daughter Donna Lee cared for her for many years.

Carol also leaves sons, Shawn (PPD), his wife Patricia, Stephen, his wife Karen, another daughter, Diane and her husband Donald. She leaves her jewels her grandchildren which reside all over the country--Cashel (Anthony), Shawna (Anthony), Michaela (Brandyn) Richard, Kelly (Marc), Rebecca (Marcus), Patrick (Monica) Adam and her great grandchildren, Mikayla, Lylah-Anne, Grace, Luke, Gianfranco, Antonio, Caramia, Willow, Zoey and two more on the way! She also leaves a brother, Walter “Babe” and the late Michael Shunney both of Naples, Florida and the late Terrence of the Boston area. Carol also leaves nieces in Naples and Marco Island in Florida.

In your Mother’s old age, show her your appreciation. (Proverbs 23:22)

CAROL A. (SHUNNEY) MAXWELL

I wrote this story for the children in the family because I want them to know more about their grandmother. My mother’s generation seldom bragged about themself. It’s a nice story of how our life was growing up! It’s long because mom lived a long life. I don't want her good works to go unnoticed.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. {2 TIMOTHY 4:7}

On a fateful night back in the 1950’s, while attending a wake, a Bay-View girl was introduced to a St. Raphael Academy’s graduate. Their parents knew one another. “Papa,'' Carol's father, was a strapping policeman who smoked Stogies. Papa liked my dad right from the start!

Prior to their chance meeting, Dad was thinking about becoming a Missionary Christian Brother and evangelizing in the Amazon Jungle but the Korean War broke out and Dad enlisted.

Dad returns from the Korean War, the rest is history. There are two versions of the “how we met” story. Dad claims Mom was smitten with the tall, dark, handsome, debonnaire black-wavy haired Master Drill Sergeant who wore a Cashmere coat, silk scarf and kid-skin leather gloves and drove a convertible. Mom’s side of the story-- Dad first caught Mom’s eye when she noticed him on his knees praying the rosary at the funeral parlor and said he was so squared away and said she never even noticed his car.

A graduate of the Talbutt-Hubbard School, mother worked in City Hall prior to her marriage at age 19 before raising a family. The children start coming. Mom was always sick during her pregnancies, five in ten years. She was sick morning, noon and night. There was a certain reverence for motherhood in those days. The women were not expected to return to the workplace 48 hours after giving birth. The children were put first, they lived on one pay, the mortgages were based on one income.

Mom was a subscriber and big fan of the Phyllis Schlafly Report and member of The Eagle Forum--Dad’s job was to bring home the bacon and Mom’s job was to fry it up in the pan. The women secured their spot, and the men toed the line...the wife’s name was also put on the house and pension. The men carried the family medical insurance, and the wife was listed as the beneficiary on the life insurance in case of any unforeseen circumstances, the children would be provided for--nothing less would be expected. All the bases were covered. Everyone played their role and knew their role well. Dad was strong physically and Mom was strong inside.

Dad grew up an only child so he wants a large family. Mom was the eldest and grew up with all brothers--from a family who is naturally funny to the point Dad would double over in laughter. Dad always called Mom “Irish” never by her first name. Mom and Dad were a good match.

They outgrow the starter house bought on the GI Mortgage bill and build a house up on the hill from St. Maria Goretti Parish. My brothers, sister and I attended the parish school and in later years the parish school was turned into Bishop Keough, an all-girls’ private Catholic high school which my sister and I both attended. We have beautiful memories of the father-and-daughter dances held at the Castle in Bristol, a time during the 1980’s when people dressed well when they went out. My dad always referred to us as “Princess’ seldom by our first name and our friends thought that was so endearing. We took it for granted assuming that everyone had great parents.

Dad always said, “marriage separates the men from the boys”. In other words, it’s time to sell his convertible and buy a Ford Country Squire station wagon with paneling on the side and a chrome roof rack. The tailgate goes down in the back so Dad can drive us around on our paper route. Mom and Dad are settled into marriage now. Dad’s custom-made suits are now replaced with plaid flannel shirts just like Governor Joe Garrahy wore during the Blizzard. Dad is seen driving around town with a wife, kids, a dog, and his mother-in-law in the back seat. His 007 James Bond persona from his single days goes out the window. His wallet that used to be full of cash is now replaced with school pictures of his children from T.D. Brown, some good and some not so good but you must purchase them anyway.

Our father came home after work whistling in the back door every night. That to me is a sign of happy emotions and contentment in his life. He was happy to return home! I’ll never forget that.

Our parents were very involved in the Pro-Life Movement, collecting furniture, clothing and fund-raising. Donna and her dad would sell roses after Sunday Mass on Mother’s Day Weekend to benefit the Little Flower Home. While I realize this is a controversial issue and a dogfight I certainly will not get into at my mother’s funeral, I want the grandchildren to know who their grandparents were and how they spent their free time.

Our mother would have Anna Sullivan over who was always collecting baby furniture. On Saturday, our parents were prayer warriors on the sidewalk of the Women’s Summit Medical Center and also another location on Broad Street in Cranston directly across from the practice of the wonderful Dr. Davis who delivered all of us! It’s so ironic. They were on the sidelines passing out literature, praying the rosary and protecting life in all its form from the womb to the tomb. Donna would attend the Annual March for Life in Washington, D.C. This was strongly encouraged by our parents during our College years.

Mom was the disciplinarian. No such thing as “time out” and “good job”. More like, “eat everything on your plate and think about the poor children in Ethiopia” or “don’t be thinking so much about yourself, why don’t you take your Aunt grocery shopping at Almacs”. Dad seldom raised his voice to us, except for the time I washed his car with the garden hose and left one of the car windows open. You should have been in the house that night.

Bravery runs in the family--Shawn was awarded the Purple Heart--he was shot in the line of duty. Stephen earned his wings with the Helicopter Rescue Unit and jumps out of helicopters into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean to rescue people and Diane goes up against the forces of evil, defending children who are being trafficked and exploited. Donna, well, she likes the finer things in life and played it safe and went to school for Art History. She always thought she was adopted. Mom had a miscarriage but she always said she had 5 children.

During the Korean War, our dad was in the enemy front lines in the machine gun unit. He required all of his platoon to attend Church on a Sunday morning. He said you couldn’t do that today. There are no atheists in a foxhole as all of the men cried for their mothers, he would tell us.

We were taught to rise in the presence of the aged, acknowledge gifts by sending out handwritten thank you notes in a timely fashion (millennials I hope you are reading this--hint, hint) and never wear white shoes after Labor Day.

Frank Street was a haven, a hearth! It wasn’t just a house but a home. Our side door to the kitchen was always open. A by-gone era when one would show up without an invitation and come in and sit for tea and always feel you're welcome! The kitchen table was a place where many great joy and great sorrow were shared. Our Monday night suppers were reserved for relatives who lost their spouse and did not want to eat alone. People always remarked we like coming over to your house. Even the plumber would stay awhile after he cleaned out the drain along with dad’s wallet and sat and drank tea–we should have charged him for the brownies. A neighbor mentioned how every time she looked out the window there was always a line of cars parked in front of our house.

What would be considered today a rich-man’s sport, family ski vacations take place at the Elms resort at Goff Falls in New Hampshire one week after February school vacation when the rates drop (how else are you going to take a bunch of kids skiing). We have the run of the place, nighttime skiing, the toboggan chute, skating, the Main house. Our cousins joined us--we had the freedom to roam without parental supervision--nowadays unheard of. One Christmas, Uncle Terry bought each family household their very own toboggan!

We always had nice vacations because my dad lived outside in Korea in the wintertime and ate out of a helmet during the War. He never once took us camping and mother was fine with that. So we always went to a resort-like setting on a family vacation.

Always a Summer rental at the “Irish Riviera” Narragansett the first two-weeks in July, again today would cost in the thousands. “A braid of three cannot be easily broken” “The Clan”, our relatives come out of the woodwork, coolers in hand! One cousin even slept in the bathtub. We all enjoyed trips to Varnum’s penny candy store and Aunt Carries to buy clam cakes. We buy our flip-flops at Adam’s Drug Store for .49 cents! Papa, after his retirement from the Police Dept. was in charge of Security at the Dunes Club.

My mother knew what any good pediatrician would recommend for children; time at the ocean and time out with nature in NH. We were the first kids to wear t-shirts over our bathing suits when swimming because of skin cancer. Our mother was well read. She had common sense.

Sundays’ everything was closed, there were Blue Laws and the relatives would flow in and sit in the parlor which was for adults only and the kids played in the family room. That’s why the Ethan Allen furniture lasted the duration of the marriage, 37 years. There was no IKEA in those days--furniture that comes in a box with easy assembly and you discard after use. No sports were scheduled, Sunday Best to attend Mass and Sunday Dinner. Hospitality was commonplace--nowadays a lost art, today no one is home. If you showed up at someone’s door today without calling ahead they probably would tell you they’re heading out to the dentist–which actually happened to me. I didn’t think dentists were open on a Sunday. I think they were trying to tell me something. Or, if you were lucky enough to be invited in, they would offer you a cup of tea made in the microwave, (that would be a personal affront to my mother) which is why Mom so loved Ireland’s Irish hospitality especially Afternoon Tea at The Shelbourne Hotel in Dublin, the RDS Lansdowne Dublin Horse Show and shopping on Grafton Street and at Brown and Thomas. I will certainly miss our trips to Ireland.

Mom also enjoyed going to the Shepard’s Tea Room in Providence. Every Thursday when dad got paid I was happy now we can go to the Casual Corner shopping! We were on a first-name basis with the sales ladies. Dad would drive us into the City and we would meet him to be picked up under the Shepard’s Clock.

Our quality of life was good, our homelife stable--we had order, much more so than kids have it today. When people came to our home for the first time, they would say, “what does your father do for a living”? Mom had such good taste. My grandmother who was one of eight children had this expression, children today have everything materially, but they have nothing. I now find myself saying the same thing about the next generation. Mother always kept her cool and I found myself doing that in mother’s late stages of her sickness when the hospital trips became more frequent.

On a Wednesday afternoon, our mother hosted a Women’s Bible Study in our home in the parlor. The room was packed. Ladies would invite themself. We loved it because when we came home after school there were all kinds of great homemade baked goodies on the table! I recall one neighbor saying to my mother, “we are a dying breed”. I didn’t know, at that time, what she meant but now as a grown woman, I do. She meant a stay-at-home Mom. Today they call it a trad-wife.

In my day, we had Home Economics which has now been replaced with Computer classes. The Home Ec classes were seen as non-essential when the tech era came about. But now, countries like Ireland say they made a mistake and the classes are returning. They now call it Life Skills. My mother cooked from scratch every night. We never once ate out of fast-food containers, ever. We had a garden. The table was set every night. I know firsthand because that was my job. When women were thrust out of the home, the child obesity rate tripled in America.

I know things are expensive but there is no anchor at home today. Creating a home is such an important refuge. Today the homes are larger, the families smaller, fancier cars and more frequent vacations. My mother thought thrusting women out of the home and into the workplace and having to do everything all at once was not good for the children or care of the elderly. With the U.S. having the highest GNP it came at a cost, a cost of mothers not being able to be home with their children and the elderly are now being farmed out by A Place For Mom. A Place For Mom did not exist in my day because the place for Mom was with her children.

Our family home that was built for $14,900 now goes for close to ½ million dollars. Dual incomes and big mortgages are all good for the banks but in my humble opinion not good for family life, women, marriages, children and the elderly. Women today are exhausted but my mother had joy.

Mom could handle herself and solved every crime show. People would remark your mother is quiet, isn’t she. But, what they didn’t know was that Mom's father was a cop. Our grandfather “Papa” on his day off, would take our mother on his beat to look for criminals (cops tend to do that, they’re cops even on their day off). Only an Irish guy would do that. So when my mother met people she was taking everything in–your height, your weight and any distinguishable birthmarks which later made for a very good portrait artist, which Mom was. Mom had this expression, “things are never what they seem”.

Papa would tell Mom, never show your afraid. He purposely would have her walk up to a grinder shop with a bunch of guys blocking the doorway and tell her to go in. Mom said she got out of the car, a VW bug, slammed the door shut, threw her shoulders back, with her head held high and marched right up to the storefront and she told me the men parted like the Red Sea remembering what her father had always told her, “never show you’re afraid”. She was eight years old at the time. Sounds like the statue of “Fearless Girl” outside the New York Stock Exchange.

My siblings and I all have our quirky ways. Whenever we would go to a restaurant (Twin Oaks--so Rhode Island) we all tried to beat one another vying for the seat with our backs against the wall and scan the room. We memorize people’s license plates and never take things at face value. We think this behavior stems from Mom’s side of the family.

Carol and John were among the handful of volunteers who worked alongside Sr. Eileen Murphy in the early beginnings of Amos House Soup Kitchen washing dishes, prepping food and serving. A small soup kitchen which started out in 1976 feeding 30-50 men daily, now serves 200,000 meals annually. Carol also helped start two other soup kitchens in the early beginnings to get them up and running and bowed out gracefully without drawing any attention to herself.

After they finished serving everyone lunch at Amos House on a Saturday, Sr. Eileen Murphy, Uncle Babe and my parents would all return to our house with a Caserta Pizza; that always struck me as kinda funny!

In the early 1980’s our grandmother Nana moved in, an in-law apartment was added to the house. We now have two bathrooms--another tv and a second telephone line. I thought I died and went to heaven! Psychologists call it “intergenerational living”. We call it three generations living under one roof and pulling our money, it’s a win-win situation. A policeman’s pension years ago , especially for the remaining widow, was nothing like today. The house became too much for Nana. There is power in the Clan! Pretty much everyone in my neighborhood and social circle lived like this. It was quite common and I am in favor of this lifestyle.

Our home was the original Assisted Living and Airbnb even before there was a term coined for it. Today they label it “caregiving”. My parents never gave it a second thought. They just took people in, sick loved ones who needed to be cared for. Whoever broke their hip, was convalescing, needed a place to stay because one sold their house or a Professor who didn’t have electricity, there was always room at the inn. If a foreign exchange student from Spain, France or Italy needed a place to flop for the Summer while learning English, word was out just ask The Maxwell’s.

Even our rich Aunt from Nantucket wanted to come to our house to die. (we’re hoping maybe she’ll leave us the house on the island, too bad the nursing home beat us to it–this is supposed to be a joke, tmi–too much information). Donna was so looking forward to borrowing a cup of sugar from Tommy Hilfiger and buying Lilly Pulitzer dresses at the Nantucket Hospital Thrift Shop. Andrew Shunney, mom’s first cousin, is a big name on the island whose paintings still sell today even after his death.

Fast forward to the early 1990’s, dad dies unexpectedly on Mother’s Day. He’s an only child, his mother is still living. Nana (mother’s mother) dies six weeks later. It was a tough time for our mother. It was their time, their job was done. Now it’s time for us to roll up our sleeves, clean out the garage, put the house on the market and turn the key, it’s the end of an era.

An accomplished artist, Mom threw herself into volunteer work after Dad’s passing. She was widowed at 56 years of age--never removed her wedding band, never dated another man after Dad’s passing and said she yearned for him everyday. Although, Mom did mention once that if the actor Omar Sharif from the movie Dr. Zhivago asked her out, she would at least have coffee with him. Who knows, they might click!

Carol would carry on entering juried exhibitions winning recognition in oils, acrylics, and mixed media as well as sculpture. She was a teacher for Literacy of America and a proud charter member of the Irish Cultural Centre in Canton, MA raising money for a Centre. With all of the grandchildren our mother could converse on any topic--lacrosse, ballet, figure skating, equestrian, Boy Scouts, photography, art, basketball camp, hockey camp–there’s a camp for everything, karate, scuba diving, bass fishing, saltwater fishing, football, painting, Parents Weekend, Father & Daughter dances, Grandparents Day at Bishop Hendricken and Hendricken Thanksgiving Day Football game, study abroad, admission to graduate school, violin, clarinet, destination weddings--inconsiderate and too costly, gluten-free food, you name it.

Carol made many friends at the former Our Lady of Peace Spiritual Life Center in Narragansett from which she graduated from the Christian Leadership Program. She had a pretty good hand at racquetball too on Saturday afternoons at Providence College’s Peterson Recreation Center. Many friends were made at the Oblate meetings and conferences at the Portsmouth Abbey Monastery in the Summertime and she also enjoyed attending the “Last Call” Mass during the Summertime at St. Veronica’s at Bonnet Shores. Her happiest times during the later chapters of her life were meeting long-time Pro-life friends at the First Friday Mass and Luncheon at the Mother of Life Center on Atwells Avenue.

Do not cast me away when I am old; Do not forsake me when my strength is gone. (Psalm 71:9).

We are all put to the test in this life and it doesn’t always come in the measure in which one may prefer.

The cognitive decline, the loss of mother’s peripheral vision and bad heart made for a perfect storm. I couldn’t figure out why my mother was walking behind cars that were backing out of the supermarket parking lot and mother was steering the shopping cart off the curb. I would have to grab mom’s arm and pull her out of harm's way. Neighbors would remark, Donna is always with her mother but they didn’t realize the extent of her condition.

Like most people our mother wanted to be cared for at home. Her wishes were granted until the very end when she ended up in a room overlooking the water at St. Francis Roper Hospital Hospice Wing because mother was too weak to come home and too weak to move anywhere else. I will be forever grateful because the Lord’s plan worked out better. I prayed the rosary by her side with mom’s Connemara marble beads from Ireland after her death. Msgr. Droze gave her the Anointing of the Sick.

As I walked down the hospital hallway crying at 2AM; a nurse came out of nowhere and hugged me. But somehow inside I felt very strong like never before. I am my mother’s daughter. When I stepped foot on the PC campus years ago, I decided that very day that, especially since I got “two” free rides, in thanksgiving, I’m going to attend daily Mass just like my mother. It was a daily ritual that would span 17-years @ 11:35 AM at Aquinas Chapel. My mother pretty much did this her entire adult life. I also iron my clothing every Monday, as did my mother.

I was very deliberate in my care for our mother. We got very lucky in life and had two great parents. I made sacrifices to care for our mom just like our parents made many sacrifices to raise us. I dropped my cable, no more eating out, cooking from scratch and working as a hair model on Newbury Street to get my hair done because I knew a dementia diagnosis can go on for years and it did. My clothing that I used to brag about coming from Grafton Street in Dublin, Ireland now comes from Senior Citizen Day at Savers. But I knew what my priorities were.

I would tuck Mom in at night, put her hankie and rosary under her pillow. She was now in a ½ rail hospital bed. She was up at night and needed assistance with everything at this point. I would then hop on the computer and teach ESL (English As A Second Language) to international businessmen who work for the Forbes Global Companies, so I won’t be living on popcorn in my old age.

We thank my mother for always taking us to the library and Sr. Eileen Crawley from the English Dept. at Bishop Keough. When we were teenagers, my dad wouldn’t even buy himself a new car. He thought the money was better spent on tuition for his daughters, that was a better return on his investment, so he would buy my Uncle’s company car. The car was usually three-years-old. My Uncle Terry was a Senior Vice President of a manufacturing company, so it was a nice used car with all of the bells and whistles.

It’s God ordained to Honor your Mother and Father. This new epidemic of cutting off ties with your parents is a disgrace. They took God out of the schools. Our generation was raised with character building and the parents were not our friends but kept the line and were authority figures. We had ground rules and guardrails. We did chores. My parents told us “as long as you live under this roof, you will attend Mass every Sunday. You have to get a job on your 16th Birthday. You can drive when you can afford to pay for your own car insurance. If you want to live at home beyond 18, you have to pay board.” I think all of these things are reasonable and it’s called responsibility. I don’t understand what is going on today at all with the kids. We were so centered, we knew what we had to do to get what we wanted. And Donna wanted a pair of Calvin Kleins, so she worked at 15 but said she was 16.

Dennis Prager Fireside/Chat and Prager U hits the nail on the head on the aforementioned topics.

Now “they” are saying the self-esteem movement with the kids was a mistake. You can say that again. Our generation of parents were into character building and perseverance. An overnight success can take 15 years, stick-to-it-iveness! Your parents gave you life! My mother could never understand this new way of thinking “I feel” “you feel”. She said we were so busy living life raising our kids that they didn’t have time to think about what we were feeling and or if they were in a toxic environment.

My generation was good at problem solving. I introduced my brother Shawn to his wife because I wanted his bedroom with the double-closet for all of my clothes. No one had therapy in those days. We were just given a cup of tea, it’s much cheaper. My siblings, all married at 23 years of age, the same age as my father did and all bought houses fresh out of college and started their families. They are all still married today.

Go back in history and see what works. We are so grateful to be born in the era that we did. It was great being a kid. Such happy times. The freedom to hop on your bike and go. We’re from the “water hose” generation. If you were thirsty, you just hopped off your bike and turned on your neighbor’s garden hose and took a drink. The satisfaction of saving up for something and buying it. The home is a place where if you had some good news to share you couldn’t wait to get home because Mom and Nana would be waiting for you. On Sunday, the Clan got together and discussed everything. So you always had a sounding board for wisdom and advice. If you were upset about something you just knew somehow if you got home, everything would be alright. A Mother does all of this…Well Done Mother!

We would like to thank Dr. Jerome Fay, Dr. Jeffery Rieder,the Nursing Staff at St. Francis Roper Hospital in downtown Charleston and Hospice as well as the Bishop Gadsden Short-term Rehab. Bishop Gadsden (BG) is the Ritz-Carlton of Charleston but mother was beyond physical therapy and occupational therapy at this point.

To Deacon Toney who happened to be ministering to a patient across the hall from my mother’s room at BG and who is also my neighbor, we thank you that my mother could receive Communion once last time. This was God’s Divine Providence!

We wanted Mom to die at home, as she did too. But with her bad heart, it wasn’t possible. I would show up each morning at BG and check Mom’s plate. She was taking her food and wrapping in a napkin; not eating because of swallowing issues.

To Deacon Paul and his wife Cathy from St. Mary’s of the Annunciation Parish; you are St. Mary’s! To Tom Tolly of the Henry Stuhr Funeral Home in downtown Charleston, a real Southern gentleman and Olivia from the Russell Boyle Funeral Home back in RI, we thank you for a job well done.

To my wonderful neighbors, especially Barbara, who came out in her bathrobe in the parking lot late at night to put a blanket around my mother as I wheeled mom in. We just returned home from a late-night trip to the ER. Flashlight in hand, I will never forget it.

To my close friends back home, “the Watch Hill Gang” not too many people have 12 friends that you can rent a place with for a long weekend and still remain on speaking terms after spending 72 hours together. Who took the last of the cream for coffee? Bill was it you? Do you know how much $$$ a quart of half-and-half costs during peak-season on Bay Street in Watch Hill. I do.

To Alessandra, my Italian dormmate from our days in Ireland, who suffered the same devastating experience with her own mother, “the Americana” as they called me in the dorm–both she and her husband prayed, emailed and Skyped. That experience at school was one of the best times of my life! Mom and Dad, I thank you for that opportunity, to return to study abroad to where our ancestors came from. I also thank Mom and Dad for the ballet lessons, the Buffy wardrobe so I could enter the Buffy look-alike contest at age 5 (I was a big fan of A Family Affair series) and the white 4-post canopy bed. Our parents gave us what every child would want.

Lastly, to my Irish connection, Mary Ann. Even though I moved, I knew you would call. I was her bridesmaid. We both wore braces on our teeth when we first met. Her parents are from Ireland. MaryAnn is the friend you can call at midnight, if you are upset. Also, Anne from Boston, years ago a first runner-up in the Rose of Tralee contest, this is big! Anne is as calm as can be, 1 of 10 kids. Her family home she grew up in is now worth millions, who knew, and yet she still remains humble. Anne is a good listener and I only share very personal things with these two people. We were all saddened when Anthony’s Pier 4 closed their doors.

Rhode Island will always be considered our home but the healthcare, quality of life at this stage of the game and weather in South Carolina are fabulous! But Heaven is Our Eternal Home!

Shawn, Stephen and Diane…Mom will always be with us!

A Mass of Christian Burial was said by Fr. Miles at St. Mary of the Annunciation in Charleston. The oldest Catholic Parish in the Carolinas and Georgia, started by a Priest from Ireland. It was our wish that our parents be buried together back in the old neighborhood at St. Francis Cemetery. The casket was air shipped and the Rev. Bernard Healey from Our Lady of Mercy Parish in East Greenwich officiated at Bannigan Chapel. Per our mother’s request, there was no wake. In lieu of flowers please donate to the Mother of Life Pregnancy Center, 400 Atwells Avenue, Providence, RI 02909 or the Amos House Soup Kitchen in Providence, RI 02907.