Ann Marie Gilberti peacefully joined the stars on March 20, 2020. She is preceded in death by her beloved Daddy, James “Jimmy” Gilberti, and survived by her best friend and daughter, Angelique Nicole (Angel). Often called Annie by some (which she begrudgingly accepted), she spent her free time reading, playing online games, and watching ID Network. Before she lost a part of her right index finger, she spent years cross stitching and crocheting. Many people throughout her life received her art as gifts. It seems inadequate to simply mention her love of reading. Ann consumed books like oxygen, and usually had a book in each room to read. She was a regular patron of every library, in every town she ever lived. She passed this love onto her daughter, and spent much of their time together discussing books. Though a self-proclaimed “b**ch,” Ann was a kind and sensitive person who gave of herself deeply. She had the mouth of a sailor, and was wildly intelligent, thus disproving theories of foul language being associated with low intelligence. She dreamed of a world set in space, as only described by the best science fiction writers. She had hard set morals, based in equity and love, while living her life as an agnostic. She was the best mother, ever. She supported her daughter in every venture she had her heart set on, no matter how odd or creepy, even giving her a tooth she lost. Ann had a sense of what kind of person someone was, quickly after meeting them, and she was rarely, if ever, wrong. 

Pahlow Lane

By Angel Phillips 2013

Dedicated to the World’s Best Mommy: Ann Marie Gilberti

I pondered the existence of singing frogs, in puddles, along a country road. You pulled over, gently begging silence. Recognition sweeps doubt from my face. I scurry out chasing the sound.

“I will do a crossword,” you call after me. Instead you watch, placid, remembering a moment, when I looked up at you able to grasp just one finger with my small hand.

I approach the croaks with stealth, watching each step that cordially quells the water from wheat and earth. I am desperate for a glimpse of glistening viridian. The teasing amphibians cease as I come close, and resume once I’ve passed.

Watching through the smoke of your Camel, you wonder how I can still be so innocently inquisitive. I look to you and silently answer, “Because you always let me.”

I slump back into my seat, a disappointed sigh leaves my lips. Grazing my sun rouged shoulder, you abate my frustration. Reminding me that, next year, when the farmers flood the fields again, I will have my proof of singing frogs, in puddles, along a country road.

Those who had the privilege of knowing Ann, know she was a very private lady, thus, there will be no funeral. There will be a celebration of her life this summer, much like an old Irish wake. 

In Lieu of flowers, her daughter is accepting donations to help with final expenses. 

https://www.gofundme.com/f/funerary-and-expenses-for-ann-phillips?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link-tip&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

Or

paypal.me/angeliquephillips82