ABOUT DEBBIE ...
Debbie was the second of two children born to Marie (nee Gasser) and Herbert ‘Mac’ McLemore; she was half Italian and half Irish. The McLemores resided in Perry Hall and Timonium through the years where Debbie first attended St. Joseph's Fullerton, then finished her elementary years in Timonium. She was a student at Perry Hall Junior High and graduated in 1976 from Perry Hall Senior High. Debbie took courses at Essex Community College before graduating from Medix School in Towson. She spent the majority of her career in healthcare. She proudly worked as Director of Physician Relations (1997-2007) at Union Memorial Hospital. As a people person, she loved this position and was sad to relinquish it due to health issues.Debbie and Bruce, absolute soul mates, married September 29, 1979 after meeting in high school. They recently celebrated their 35th anniversary. Bruce says, “The only thing that I was really good at was loving Debbie.” Always residing in Perry Hall, the McCoys are the parents of Blake, 30, and Ryan, 26; and are “Nanny” and “Papa” to their grandson, Landon, age 7 … he was the JOY in Debbie’s days. “She was a wonderful wife and a fantastic mother – a very giving mother,” says Bruce. “Debbie was very proud of her sons and grandson. We were blessed with two kids who never gave us any trouble.” What a true reflection on their method of parenting. There wasn't anything Debbie wouldn't try at least once; advice and encouragement she had dispensed to her boys.
Deb loved gardening, animals and her pets, and she lovingly fed the sweet hummingbirds fluttering outside of her kitchen window. She enjoyed cooking and baking (a great cook!), and planning family dinners and parties; she was very organized. Debbie loved the holidays, especially Halloween, and collected snowmen and carousels. As an avid Orioles and Ravens fan, Debbie watched almost every game – with spirit! She may have even had her favorite drink in hand, a margarita. “I never say no to a good margarita,” she laughed.
Yet the lucky ones really were her husband and sons, her grandson and other family members, and her many good friends whom she had collected along life’s path. All people she adored, loved, cared for, nurtured, listened to, and gave tirelessly. Selfless Debbie. And that’s not all … sweet Debbie … lovable Deb … laughing Debbie – a great sense of humor. Generous Deb … friendly and kind Debbie … our golden-hearted beautiful girl.
WHEN WE HEAR THE WORD SISTER
By Suzanne Molino Singleton
When we hear the word SISTER
We think of Paula and me
And another in the audience
Pamela, younger as you'll see.
Yet through our lives we've added
Back at ages six and seven
Another sister, Deborah Lee
Who now is up in heaven.
Since a SISTER can be another
Than someone who is blood
A friend to laugh and bond with
A girlfriend whom we love.
We found this in our Debbie
We call each other SKISSY
Through 50 years of friendship
We've laughed until we're dizzy.
A SKISSY is a someone
Who always proves she's there
Through thick and thin and secrets
A SKISSY full of care.
Our parents once were friends
We were added to the mix
On Pinedale Drive in Perry Hall
in 1966.
On Foxhill Road as kids
We formed memories so great
Deb's house was down the street
From our 9828.
Through Perry Hall High as teens
Then weddings and birthday letters
Scarce time together after that
But reuniting was even better.
The last 11 years have been
Our closest of them yet
Vacations, parties, phone calls
For many meals we've met.
Sadly we kiss our SKISSY 'bye
We never wanted to
Yet we understand from heaven
We'll see her shining through.
When we hear the word SISTER
We think of the Molino three
Paula, Suzanne and Pamela
And our beautiful Deborah Lee.
My Skissy Deb
by “Skissy” Suzanne Molino Singleton
My best friend, Debbie McLemore McCoy, friends since 1966, died on November 11, 2014. It feels as if we are quite too young to say that we've been friends for almost 50 years. It definitely feels like we are too young to say she died. And yet, both statements are true.
Our moms, Marie and Gina, introduced us in 1966 after they had formed a friendship as coworkers during their career at Western Electric. I remember the day we visited the McLemores' house for the first time with my parents, my brother Danny, and my sister Paula. (See the photo of us kids at that time in the banner photos above.) It wasn't long before Debbie, Danny, Paula and I were running and hopping all around their basement in fits of giggles. We had a ball altogeher, indicative of the MANY fun times that were to be part of our futures.
When someone is such a constant in your life, saying farewell to the person is an incredibly surreal experience. Besides my first seven years of life, Debbie had always been in my life. And then, POOF! One day she was gone. Just like that. If I was emotionally prepared or not. Two months later, I’m still in disbelief. I stood over her lifeless body in a coffin in the funeral home and just stared at her. She looked so peaceful. Finally so out of pain. She’d had a very rough 2014 and a tough road leading up to that for eight years living with cancer.
"Deb, I can't believe you're dead," I said. "I'm expecting you to open your eyes and look at me and laugh. But wait - don't do that because that would really wig me out! And yet, I want you to wake up." And then silently in our hearts, we laughed together, because if she was alive right then and there, standing next to me watching me talk to a dead friend, laughing is what we would have done.
But Deb couldn't wake up and I wasn't laughing. She had already moved on to the next plane in the universe. Closed her eyes in this world and opened her eyes to exist in the next phase for her soul.
I was holding Debbie's hand when she died. That single gesture of my love for her was one of the most honoring experiences of my life, having been with only one other person on her deathbed in 2011 - my sweet amusing mother-in-law, Lucille.
Death itself is ugly - watching a human body deteriorate is ugly as it pulls in its last breaths; especially a body riddled with cancer. But did you know also, there are beautiful parts of death? My eulogy honoring Ma Lucille was titled that: "The Beautiful Parts of Death."
On her last day on earth, Debbie was green with jaundice and she had been bald for a while (save for some gray peach fuzz). She was skinnier than she'd been – by about 50 pounds – and her fingernails were gray. I noticed that last detail when I held her right hand in both of mine. I stroked her arm and talked to her until she died. She died about 25 minutes after I rushed to her side when her husband, Bruce, called me to say, “come now.” I even joked with her; told her she looked like Shrek. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t conscious, but she heard me, I know she did.
Bruce had been worried that day about allowing me to come over to "see her like this" but I said, "Bruce, Debbie and I have 50 years of wonderful memories growing up together. I promise you, this won’t be my lasting memory of her. Besides, no matter what she looks like now, Debbie will be always beautiful to me." Inside out. Outside in. And yes, even in death, Debbie was beautiful to me.
But enough about Debbie's death – I'd prefer to focus on her LIFE ... because she was full of verve, energy and JOYFUL living! That "dash" in between her birth date and death date was a long, full, abundant time. A dash signifying a vibrant, sweet, lovable and giving woman, a person who was very good at being a very good friend, a fantastic mother and a caring, wonderful wife. Selfless Debbie. Laughing Deb. Kind Debbie. Nurturing Deb. Golden-hearted Debbie. Could God ask for any better characteristics in His angels?
We were in each other's weddings. We are in a home video together – as kids standing in the sprinkler and giggling endlessly as the water splashes us. It was in Debbie’s backyard. We have each other's high school photos in long forgotten albums. We signed each other's yearbooks. Here is her “autograph” to me in our 1975 yearbook:
"Suz, Well we have been friends since 3rd grade I believe, maybe younger. I have some wonderful memories of our friendship. Never forget ‘the fort’ and all the times we played ‘monsters.’ Remember Timmy and Kenny. ‘Spin the bottle’ and paper dolls. Kemp’s fort and his tractor on the 4th of July. Boy, I could write on and on but there’s no time or space. I hope you have a great junior year and luck on Varsity! I only wish I would have been on J.V. I know it would have been great! I know it was for you. Keep in touch over the summer and I’ll call you up so we can go shopping. Okay? I only wish we could have spent more time together. Maybe we will next year. Don’t ever forget all the wonderful times in the 'old neighborhood.' I know I won’t. Hey, I almost left this one out. Remember 'the mansion.' Well, Suz, I can only wish you the best of luck in all that you do. I can assure you that you deserve only the best! I hope all of your future years are filled with love and happiness! Please call once in a while.
Love Always, Debbie. (256-4023 - use it please.)"
As kids, we played a plethora of crazy games, collected things, rode bicycles, played in our forts, and hung out with our "Foxhill Road neighborhood gang." Our brother Danny, neighbors Timmy and Stevie Kline, Brian Starr, Kenny & Christy Kelly, Don Tyrie, Leah Polek, Ronnie & Barry Wallace, the Mick girls, and more. We were always into something.
And we shared young girl secrets. Debbie once "taught" me (standing and whispering in my parents' walk-in hall closet) that a girl could get pregnant with a guy’s middle finger. I still chuckle at that one. And I know Debbie figured out later that was incorrect because she and Bruce had two kids.
School bus rides and camping trips. Wedding and baby showers. Burying her parents. Welcoming our babies. Giving gifts and writing notes. Phone calls and outings. Meeting for meals and putting our big feet in the sand. Flying to Florida and sharing margaritas. Vacations and weekends away. Sharing my sister, Paula, another "skissy." Laughing at, and with, our childhood friend Stevie (aka "Wee-Wee" – he’s so fun to tease.) Planting giant flowerpots at my house (well, Debbie did, and I watched). Loving each other's children and grandchildren and husbands. Talking and sharing and venting and crying and supporting - through everything. There was nothing I couldn't tell Debbie. THAT is the definition of a sister.
Here's to you, Skissy. I'll see you in heaven.
BY CHRISTINE WILLIAMS
Our kitchen table sits under a window overlooking our backyard, offering me a peaceful, natural vista of deer, foxes, kitties, squirrels, our crazy pack of dogs, tons of birds, fish pond waterfalls... a refuge from the hyped up rhythms of our human lives. I am grateful for the few quiet moments I gift myself in the morning with my coffee
This morning Pandora spontaneously started playing on my phone, as it sometimes does. Snowflakes were swirling outside, and the melody transformed them into little joyous angels dancing their love all over us. The name of the music playing is "Touched by Spirit". It makes sense.
A month ago on 11/11, our angel Debbie McCoy went to heaven. I haven't known how to write about her passing until today. I prayed for miracles as I watched her valiantly struggle with cancer. My miracle was more glorious than my prayers desired. Debbie passed peacefully in the loving presence of her husband, sons and best childhood friend. She will live on in the hearts of many. She was a genuinely compassionate and loving person to the very end. I have text messages from her just before she passed sending me love and support as I wrestled with the news of my mother's cancer spreading from her lungs to her brain and bones ... a very similar cancer experience to Debbie. I cannot recall a single instance of Debbie feeling sorry for herself or even complaining about her pain and fatigue.
I have been to many viewings of the deceased. I have never had the nerve, nor the inclination, to touch someone in a casket. I touched Debbie's hand. It was completely lifeless, but strangely, it was comforting. Her human body was cold and hard and yet, her love still filled the room. She was everywhere. She was in the hearts, the hugs, the tears, and the laughter that filled the room.
What a miraculous lesson that Love does prevail. I hope you will join me in honoring Debbie. Be kind, be compassionate, be honest, be generous. Love really is the only answer. xoxo
To my Princess,
I wished and prayed for a miracle, in the way of a cure for that dreaded disease. But my wish was not answered and our time was cut way too short. Looking back, I have to believe that I had already received my miracle, when I met you … because you chose me to spend the rest of your life with. My heart overflows with your love and I hope that someday we will be together again. I will love you forever.”
~ Bruce
Today, one year ago, Debbie McLemore McCoy's soul moved on to the next plane.
Although I have missed her dearly every day since last November 11, I know she is FREE from the awful pain of that dreaded stupid cancer. She suffered for 8 years with it (second go-round; she had it also in her 20s) ... more than most of us could ever possibly understand.
Debbie is not 'gone' ... she merely exists on a different level. Our friendship absolutely continues, maybe not face to face, but soul to soul. There is no doubt my SKISSY is at PEACE, and hanging with her parents Marie & Mac, who both passed too young.
So today ... drink a margarita, feed a hummingbird, spot a dragonfly, and laugh aloud - FOR DEBBIE.
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