Marsha was a woman of remarkable quiet strength. The oldest of her siblings and, as her sisters remember her, the rock of the family, she possessed a resilience that would become one of the defining qualities of her life. She was strong, capable, fiercely independent, hardworking, and deeply devoted to the people she loved. Life asked a great deal of her, but she met its challenges with a grace and determination that those who knew her will not soon forget.

There was also always a little mischief beneath that strength. One of Marsha's favorite childhood photographs captured that part of her perfectly. Every year before school pictures, her mother took great care to ensure that the girls looked neatly groomed. One year, Marsha happened to be absent on picture day and then somehow "neglected" to tell her mother when make-up pictures were scheduled. The resulting photograph shows a young Marsha in her Girl Scout uniform, with short, unruly hair and a capped front tooth. Her mother hated the picture. Marsha loved it.

In many ways, that little girl never entirely disappeared. Marsha was a tomboy who loved being outdoors, hiking, camping, skiing, and being in the water. She was responsible and capable, as the oldest of her siblings often had to be, but there was an independent, playful, slightly rebellious streak in her as well. She shared a particularly close relationship with her father and inherited his sense of humor, his wonderful laugh lines, and his twinkling blue eyes, which often seemed to hint at the mischief just beneath the surface.

That sense of humor stayed with her throughout her life. Marsha had an extraordinary ability to find something funny even in difficult circumstances. Her laughter could shine a little light into the darkest moments, making frightening or painful things feel more bearable. Those closest to her knew they could count on her not only for strength, but also for the perfectly timed observation that could make them laugh when they needed it most.

Family was at the center of Marsha's life. Her husband was her best friend, and they genuinely enjoyed being together, whether they were traveling, taking a cruise, going out to dinner, spending time with friends, or simply sharing everyday life. They built lasting friendships over the years and enjoyed traveling to visit friends who lived farther away.

As a mother, Marsha somehow made an enormous amount of work look effortless. She raised children with very different needs while building a successful career, maintaining a home, and carrying responsibilities that were often invisible to those around her.

But what her children remember most are the smaller things. She read aloud to them. She listened. She drew pictures. She made time for conversations and comfort. She created whimsy and fostered wonder, filling childhood with room for fairies, imagination, magic, and possibility.

She was a gentle mother, but certainly not an ineffective one. Her children don't remember her needing to yell or raise a hand to command their attention. Marsha had "the look." It could stop a misbehaving child in their tracks and, with almost alarming accuracy, uncover whatever someone was attempting to hide from her.

Marsha was equally accomplished in her professional life. She took great pride in what she accomplished during her career, where she rose into senior leadership. She had an exceptional work ethic and carried herself with confidence and assurance. She could command a room, negotiate skillfully, communicate clearly, solve problems, and inspire the people around her to work harder and more effectively. Those who knew her primarily as a wife, mother, sister, or friend may not always have seen this side of her, but she was an extraordinarily capable professional who earned the respect of those around her.

For all her strength, Marsha was never hard. She was compassionate, generous, loving, and remarkably accepting of other people. She wasn't quick to judge and didn't waste much energy holding grudges. She understood that people were imperfect and gave them considerable grace to be exactly that. Sometimes she gave second chances long after others might have stopped counting. She loved faithfully and without requiring perfection in return.

Marsha was also deeply private and never felt the need to advertise everything that made her interesting. She had a quiet artistic and creative side and appreciated beautiful art, good books, handmade things, nature, and beauty with character.

Perhaps what was most remarkable about Marsha was how little attention she called to any of the things that made her remarkable. She didn't announce her sacrifices, advertise her talents, or ask to be recognized for her strength. She simply kept showing up: for her husband, her children, her siblings, her friends, and the people who needed her.

She was the rock. She was the person others leaned on. And somehow, even while carrying responsibilities, hardships, losses, and challenges of her own, she continued to make room for other people.

Those who loved Marsha will remember her strength and resilience, but also her kindness, humor, independence, creativity, generosity, and grace. They will remember her laugh, the twinkle in her eye, her ability to find humor when life was anything but funny, and the quiet, consistent way she loved.

Marsha believed that when a person was gone, memorials and ceremonies were for those left behind. A deeply private person, she did not want an elaborate service or grand gestures made in her name. In keeping with her wishes, those who loved her are encouraged simply to remember her in their own way: spend time together, tell stories, laugh, share a good meal, remember something ridiculous, or revisit a memory of Marsha that belongs uniquely to you.

Marsha was preceded in death by her husband, Richard Bateman, and her parents, Walter and Claire (Kennedy) Goody.

She is survived by her children, Mark Bateman and his wife, Sarah; Honi Kalinowski and her husband, Donald; and Tyson Bateman; her grandchildren, Lauren Bateman Sizemore, Michael Bateman, Erin O'Leary, Chris O'Leary, Meghan Kalinowski Daleiden, Casey Kalinowski, Laurel Kalinowski Lewis, Charles Kalinowski, Theodore Kalinowski, and Mary-Agnes Kalinowski; her great-grandchildren, Elijah Daleiden, Charlotte Lane Sizemore, Nora Jane Sizemore, and Theodore Bateman; and her sisters, April Woods, Christine Laramore, and Dianne Augusto.