Marilyn Marshall was my friend and adopted mother. Marilyn never married or had a family of her own, but she created her own family. She referred to me and several other staff members and friends as her daughters; she loved us and allowed us to love her. Marilyn spent the last few years of her life in a nursing home, which is where our story began.
I started working as the front desk receptionist at Sunnybrook Nursing Home in the spring of 2023. I was introduced to a resident named Marilyn, and I was told she would like to sit with me during my weekend shifts. We became fast friends because she reminded me of my own mother—or perhaps I saw a part of myself in her. Marilyn was single, strong, and sassy. She would sit with me at that desk for my entire eight-hour shift. Every morning, after getting dressed and eating breakfast, she would join me. We chatted all day until noon, when she would roll away in her wheelchair for lunch, looking back over her shoulder to chime, “I’ll be back!” She always returned and stayed until my shift ended at 4:00 PM. At the time, she was a feisty 87 years young. I later discovered she had actually wanted the receptionist job for herself.
Over the next few years, I came to know Marilyn very well. We talked about how she left her home in New Orleans as a minor and sharecropped her way south to North Carolina. She told me she never knew her parents, was abandoned as a child, and spent time in various foster homes. Marilyn rarely shared details about her time in those homes, saying only, “It wasn’t good.” I could only imagine why she felt living on the streets at 13 was a better option. During our many Saturday and Sunday conversations, Marilyn spoke about what she wanted to do once she left Sunnybrook. Her recurring dream was: “I wanna open a home to take in kids that have no place to go.” I am certain being abandoned was the motivation behind this.
Marilyn was unquestionably outspoken. If she had something to say, you were going to hear it—usually exactly the way she meant it. That was the Sagittarian in her, a trait we both shared. That honesty was why we loved her. You would often hear her encouraging much younger residents to “Fight! You can’t give up.” She was a true fighter. Life brought challenges, as it does to us all, and Marilyn met them head-on. She did not back down easily; even in difficult moments, she persevered. After one of her many hospital visits, she told me, “I’m not ready to leave here yet. I still have work to do.”
Marilyn had a spirit that inspired you to be your best. She didn’t merely rise above challenges; she showed how to keep moving with positivity and encourage others even after a “hard launch” at life. I learned a lot from Marilyn in the few years we knew each other. One lesson was to ask for what you want—she had no problem with that at all. Her last two requests of me were to “bury me nice” and to donate her organs. Most importantly, I learned that no matter how little you think you have, you can still make a huge difference in someone’s life.
I didn’t know how I was going to fulfill her last wish of a nice burial. However, I was empowered by her spirit of resilience, her ability to ask for what she needed, and her love for her fellow man. Because of Marilyn Marshall, I founded Daughters of Marilyn (DOM). This non-profit was established to honor people like Marilyn by providing funding for remembrance services for nursing home residents without family. This is why Marilyn Marshall is my hero.
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