Rebecca Noelle Gyongyver Marilley began her life's journey on March 31, 1989. Born in Miercurea Ciuc, Romania, it took a couple of years before her parents discovered her, and she was adopted in 1991. When Rebecca was still in the orphanage, she was very frail, but at the same time, she demonstrated great determination. When it was time to end a visit, her head would drop, and she would go to her knees crying. Leaving her native country without adopting her was not an option.
When she first arrived at home in Dearborn, she loved to walk around the track in the park. It was amazing to see her react to each new person she saw there with her arms wide open. It isn't clear when that stopped because she was always open to connecting with new people. In school, she knew everyones' name and seemed to touch them all in some way, by saying, "Hi", then addressing them each by name. Her best friends in school were always very important to her, and they always enjoyed being with her. Later on, in her teens, she always made a strong connection with little children. She would smile and look them straight in the eye, and very quickly find out their favorite way to play. She could engage whole groups of children in games, and she seemed destined to work in daycare.
As she moved into her late teens, it seemed like a whole host of problems limited her dreams, one of which was to "help poor people." What else would someone who took great notice of others want to do? Nonetheless, her unyielding spirit of kindness, and her gentle acceptance of adversity were an inspiration to everyone who knew her. Her greatest challenge, other than dealing with personal emotional upheavals, was the disappointment of not being able to function on her own as she grew older.
Her seizure disorder and her cerebral palsy gave her frequent problems with simple walking, taking away from her what she saw everyone else possess. It is no surprise that she loved connecting with people by texting, and the Internet. And even though it was a struggle, she would constantly take pen and paper to express her love and appreciation to everyone that she knew. Her simple words made it clear that those around her meant everything.
Her hope for better days always generated hope in the people close to her. And when she so quietly disappeared into the night, one could only think that her whole life was a symbol of the great hope that is so easy to lose sight of. We worry so much about defining who we are based on trivial, limited human accomplishments.
In many ways, from that perspective, she really had nothing. But if one had the privilege of seeing her work at her first real job at American House, a job that her progressive disability took away from her, a job that allowed her to help people in the twilight of their own lives, it was amazing to see her trying so hard to do everything right. Seeing her clean the dining room with such determination was a humble but powerful image. It said so much about who she was.
Maybe she didn't say goodbye because her inspiration to all of us is destined to take on a special presence in our own lives.
Rebecca went to be with her Lord peacefully in her sleep on November 18, 2013. She left behind five younger siblings, Alexander, Sarah, Peter, Matthew, and Hannah, devoted parents, multiple grandparents, and countless cousins and other relatives. She will be remembered for her smile, her unconditional acceptance of people, her strong spirit, and her bling. With her sparkly attire and her megawatt smile, she will shine forever in our memories and our hearts.
When she first arrived at home in Dearborn, she loved to walk around the track in the park. It was amazing to see her react to each new person she saw there with her arms wide open. It isn't clear when that stopped because she was always open to connecting with new people. In school, she knew everyones' name and seemed to touch them all in some way, by saying, "Hi", then addressing them each by name. Her best friends in school were always very important to her, and they always enjoyed being with her. Later on, in her teens, she always made a strong connection with little children. She would smile and look them straight in the eye, and very quickly find out their favorite way to play. She could engage whole groups of children in games, and she seemed destined to work in daycare.
As she moved into her late teens, it seemed like a whole host of problems limited her dreams, one of which was to "help poor people." What else would someone who took great notice of others want to do? Nonetheless, her unyielding spirit of kindness, and her gentle acceptance of adversity were an inspiration to everyone who knew her. Her greatest challenge, other than dealing with personal emotional upheavals, was the disappointment of not being able to function on her own as she grew older.
Her seizure disorder and her cerebral palsy gave her frequent problems with simple walking, taking away from her what she saw everyone else possess. It is no surprise that she loved connecting with people by texting, and the Internet. And even though it was a struggle, she would constantly take pen and paper to express her love and appreciation to everyone that she knew. Her simple words made it clear that those around her meant everything.
Her hope for better days always generated hope in the people close to her. And when she so quietly disappeared into the night, one could only think that her whole life was a symbol of the great hope that is so easy to lose sight of. We worry so much about defining who we are based on trivial, limited human accomplishments.
In many ways, from that perspective, she really had nothing. But if one had the privilege of seeing her work at her first real job at American House, a job that her progressive disability took away from her, a job that allowed her to help people in the twilight of their own lives, it was amazing to see her trying so hard to do everything right. Seeing her clean the dining room with such determination was a humble but powerful image. It said so much about who she was.
Maybe she didn't say goodbye because her inspiration to all of us is destined to take on a special presence in our own lives.
Rebecca went to be with her Lord peacefully in her sleep on November 18, 2013. She left behind five younger siblings, Alexander, Sarah, Peter, Matthew, and Hannah, devoted parents, multiple grandparents, and countless cousins and other relatives. She will be remembered for her smile, her unconditional acceptance of people, her strong spirit, and her bling. With her sparkly attire and her megawatt smile, she will shine forever in our memories and our hearts.
Rebecca Noelle Gyongyver Marilley began her life's journey on March 31, 1989. Born in Miercurea Ciuc, Romania, it took a couple of years before her parents discovered her, and she was adopted in 1991. When Rebecca was still in the orphanage, she was very frail, but at the same time, she demonstrated great determination. When it was time to end a visit, her head would drop, and she would go to her knees crying. Leaving her native country without adopting her was not an option.
When she first arrived at home in Dearborn, she loved to walk around the track in the park. It was amazing to see her react to each new person she saw there with her arms wide open. It isn't clear when that stopped because she was always open to connecting with new people. In school, she knew everyones' name and seemed to touch them all in some way, by saying, "Hi", then addressing them each by name. Her best friends in school were always very important to her, and they always enjoyed being with her. Later on, in her teens, she always made a strong connection with little children. She would smile and look them straight in the eye, and very quickly find out their favorite way to play. She could engage whole groups of children in games, and she seemed destined to work in daycare.
As she moved into her late teens, it seemed like a whole host of problems limited her dreams, one of which was to "help poor people." What else would someone who took great notice of others want to do? Nonetheless, her unyielding spirit of kindness, and her gentle acceptance of adversity were an inspiration to everyone who knew her. Her greatest challenge, other than dealing with personal emotional upheavals, was the disappointment of not being able to function on her own as she grew older.
Her seizure disorder and her cerebral palsy gave her frequent problems with simple walking, taking away from her what she saw everyone else possess. It is no surprise that she loved connecting with people by texting, and the Internet. And even though it was a struggle, she would constantly take pen and paper to express her love and appreciation to everyone that she knew. Her simple words made it clear that those around her meant everything.
Her hope for better days always generated hope in the people close to her. And when she so quietly disappeared into the night, one could only think that her whole life was a symbol of the great hope that is so easy to lose sight of. We worry so much about defining who we are based on trivial, limited human accomplishments.
In many ways, from that perspective, she really had nothing. But if one had the privilege of seeing her work at her first real job at American House, a job that her progressive disability took away from her, a job that allowed her to help people in the twilight of their own lives, it was amazing to see her trying so hard to do everything right. Seeing her clean the dining room with such determination was a humble but powerful image. It said so much about who she was.
Maybe she didn't say goodbye because her inspiration to all of us is destined to take on a special presence in our own lives.
Rebecca went to be with her Lord peacefully in her sleep on November 18, 2013. She left behind five younger siblings, Alexander, Sarah, Peter, Matthew, and Hannah, devoted parents, multiple grandparents, and countless cousins and other relatives. She will be remembered for her smile, her unconditional acceptance of people, her strong spirit, and her bling. With her sparkly attire and her megawatt smile, she will shine forever in our memories and our hearts.
When she first arrived at home in Dearborn, she loved to walk around the track in the park. It was amazing to see her react to each new person she saw there with her arms wide open. It isn't clear when that stopped because she was always open to connecting with new people. In school, she knew everyones' name and seemed to touch them all in some way, by saying, "Hi", then addressing them each by name. Her best friends in school were always very important to her, and they always enjoyed being with her. Later on, in her teens, she always made a strong connection with little children. She would smile and look them straight in the eye, and very quickly find out their favorite way to play. She could engage whole groups of children in games, and she seemed destined to work in daycare.
As she moved into her late teens, it seemed like a whole host of problems limited her dreams, one of which was to "help poor people." What else would someone who took great notice of others want to do? Nonetheless, her unyielding spirit of kindness, and her gentle acceptance of adversity were an inspiration to everyone who knew her. Her greatest challenge, other than dealing with personal emotional upheavals, was the disappointment of not being able to function on her own as she grew older.
Her seizure disorder and her cerebral palsy gave her frequent problems with simple walking, taking away from her what she saw everyone else possess. It is no surprise that she loved connecting with people by texting, and the Internet. And even though it was a struggle, she would constantly take pen and paper to express her love and appreciation to everyone that she knew. Her simple words made it clear that those around her meant everything.
Her hope for better days always generated hope in the people close to her. And when she so quietly disappeared into the night, one could only think that her whole life was a symbol of the great hope that is so easy to lose sight of. We worry so much about defining who we are based on trivial, limited human accomplishments.
In many ways, from that perspective, she really had nothing. But if one had the privilege of seeing her work at her first real job at American House, a job that her progressive disability took away from her, a job that allowed her to help people in the twilight of their own lives, it was amazing to see her trying so hard to do everything right. Seeing her clean the dining room with such determination was a humble but powerful image. It said so much about who she was.
Maybe she didn't say goodbye because her inspiration to all of us is destined to take on a special presence in our own lives.
Rebecca went to be with her Lord peacefully in her sleep on November 18, 2013. She left behind five younger siblings, Alexander, Sarah, Peter, Matthew, and Hannah, devoted parents, multiple grandparents, and countless cousins and other relatives. She will be remembered for her smile, her unconditional acceptance of people, her strong spirit, and her bling. With her sparkly attire and her megawatt smile, she will shine forever in our memories and our hearts.
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