Suzanne K. Marcotte, 71, of Colchester, Vermont passed away on May 29, 2022
in her home surrounded by her family after a courageous battle with pancreatic
Suzanne was born to Harvey and Teresa Marcotte of Winooski, Vermont on
November 14th, 1950. Suzanne spent her childhood in Winooski, and her adult
life in Colchester.
Suzanne lived her life on her own terms. She rose every morning with the sun to
greet the seasons with her dogs by her side. A lifelong Vermonter, she loved to
walk, ski, or snowshoe the rolling hills among her beloved sugar maples,
ironwood, and white pine. Solitary by nature, she chose her friends sparingly but
wisely. This self-imposed solitude allowed her to develop a unique style
unfettered by popular trends, a style reflected in the home of her design where
she lived for more than forty years. Suzanne asked little of others, yet gave
generously and selflessly of herself. She was perhaps most at home in her
kitchen, where her talent and artistry were in full bloom. Suzanne appreciated
and recreated cuisine from all over the world, dishes enhanced as much by the
fresh herbs from her garden as they were by her fine taste and attention to detail.
Although very private, Suzanne had a magnetic personality. She could captivate
you with her smile and brighten your day with her humor. Her ability to put
strangers at ease was remarkable. She was that person you’d just met that felt
like you’d known your whole life.
Suzanne is survived by her children: Nathan Brault, Darren Brault, Darcie (Kyle)
Mumley, and two grandchildren; her siblings, Floyd Marcotte, Diane Marcotte
and Paul (Cathy) Marcotte ; and her best friend, Kathy Provencher.
At Suzanne’s request no services will be held. In place of flowers, a donation
may be made in her name to: hsccvt.org
A note from her children:
Mom, it seems an embarrassment of riches, that we had you nearly all to
ourselves. I wish the world had known you the way we did. You would have
brightened their days as surely as you had ours
Mom, we thank you for making each one of us feel special in our own unique
way. We thank you for all the birthdays and holiday celebrations you organized
with your own flair. We thank you for all the rides to the slopes, all the homemade
lunches, all the elements endured, the frozen toes, the early mornings, and the
late evenings, all for our sake. Some of our best memories were shared on our
bikes, exploring this idyllic state, this Vermont of our youths. Together we pedaled
countless country roads, back-woods trails, and single track, you as spry and fit
as the teenagers you accompanied. Together we shared the smell of spring
lilacs, fresh-cut hay, and the first fallen leaves of autumn. We shared the sight of
the last of winter's receding snow on the Greens and the tender green of the
spring's new growth. We pedaled through the cloying heat of summer, with its
abundant daylight hours and the occasional garish sunset as an encore. We
welcomed the fall’s cooling temperatures that oxygenated our lungs,
strengthened our legs, and blushed the leaves with color. Thank you for sharing
these things with us. We will always think of you when we return to these places.
You are the reason we return to these places.
It is these memories, among many more, that simultaneously warm our hearts
and sharpen our grief. This great paradox of life, that today’s joy whets
tomorrow’s sadness, may be its most cosmic truth. The resultant pain is
proportionate to the bliss. May we all be so lucky as to experience both acutely.
We are wearied by the claims that time will dull the anguish of your passing. No
number of years could fill the chasm left by your absence. You were our treasure
alone, the breath in our lungs, the reason for our souls. Like your love for us, our
grief is limitless. We will always remember.
You’re woven into our bones.