Maria N. Chupa

"You're my Favorite son! You're my Favorite daughter!" Maria was fond of saying to us when we were kids, which drove us a little nuts actually.
"Very funny, mom," a very serious Mike would stubbornly reply, "I'm your ONLY son." She'd laugh and hug us and, in addition to getting our first lesson in humor and irony, we knew we were loved unconditionally and always.
That was the nature of Maria – she loved with all of her being, all of her heart. She was fiercely protective yet sweetly gentle and funny. Unsurprisingly, she was beloved herself, not merely by all friends and family that knew her but legendarily by critters of all persuasions, from lambs and robins to bunnies and doggies.
Maria Kowalyk grew up on a farm in Yugoslavia during World War II. Her dad, John, was captured by the Nazis and forced to work in a labor camp until the end of the war. Her mom, Julia, worked very hard to keep things as normal as possible for Maria and her six siblings, making sure that she went to school, helped out on the farm and even had a sweet little lamb as a companion.
Maria's little lamb LOVED her, following her everywhere, even to school (the irony of the similarity to a beloved children's nursery rhyme is not lost on us). Her little lamb was disconsolate when she'd leave and would often try to prevent her from going, nearly knocking her into the family well on occasion!
When the war ended and her dad was liberated, most of the family moved to Detroit, while the two oldest sisters had already gained visas and moved to Australia. Being an excellent student, Maria learned English quickly and began working at a bank, always dressed to the nines. She took great pride in being the picture of elegance, yet she never overspent on clothes. It was the way she carried herself, with the grace and style of Audrey Hepburn yet with a humility that made it easy to love her.
"Oh, he fell HARD," Maria laughed. "Here's this grease monkey, covered in oil working under a car and he's trying to impress me. I had to laugh, but he was undeniably charming."
Maria met Dan Chupa when she brought her car in for repairs.
"He'd 'fix' my car but it kept breaking down regularly so I'd have to go back," Maria mused. "I'm pretty sure he kept fouling things up so I'd have to keep coming back, just so he could see me again. It was corny, but in a sweet way – and it worked."
Maria and Dan married in 1963 at Immaculate Conception Church in Hamtramck, Michigan, moving to Warren a few years thereafter where they built a home just down the street from Dan's parents. The couple were arguably blessed with two kids, Michael and Danielle, born a year apart. Characteristically, Mike was born three weeks late while Danielle was born precisely on time.
While having a wide variety of interests and passions (including a desire to be James Bond!), Maria was most widely known for her unparalleled talent in the creation of Ukrainian Psyanky (Easter Eggs), in a nod to her and Dan's ethnic heritage. Ladies would come to the house from far and wide to buy dozens of her eggs as she was the most prolific and most respected artist in the Ukrainian community in and around Detroit. She tried to pass on her talent to Mike and Danielle, but a singed finger here and a cracked egg there spelled a quick end to that endeavor.
In 1978, Maria and Dan decided to kick the dust off of their home town and move the family out to California, where her parents lived. Dan transferred to the GM Plant in Van Nuys while Maria both kept house and eventually began working as a Realtor full time.
Maria earned a number of awards as a top producer in the several companies for whom she worked over her 25-year career in real estate. Yet, that meant very little to her (other than the bonuses that helped pay for her kid's school!).
"We had this Robin's nest in the kitchen window," Maria said, "you remember it, right? Well, that's how I looked at my clients – fragile, young couples who needed help building their nests.
"I preferred to only work with new couples just starting out," Maria remembered. "I didn't care that they didn't have much money. They were young families and they needed help and if I didn't help them, who would?"
Maria turned innumerable clients into lifelong friends. She'd never allow anyone to spend more than they could afford and always helped them to see the big picture. She'd often bring a bucket of chicken and drinks to her client's new homes as they were moving in, wanting them to feel welcome and comfortable. She would frequently take a smaller commission just to make sure her clients could afford to buy their dream homes.
That was my mom – going without to make sure others could have what they needed.
"Get back! Get back!" Maria yelled at the little Pepe Le Pew in the backyard, it's tiny tail darting about, trying to get a fix on Max, the Black Lab / German Shepherd pup that had the baby skunk cornered in the backyard.
Armed with only a broom, she stood between the sworn enemies, trying to protect the pup from this vicious predator. Suddenly, the tiny skunk locked on to his target and sprayed with all its might – a few drops squirting out that thankfully did no damage as he ran off.
Protector of Animals was Maria's true designation. She LOVED Max and he her. Mike and Danielle would come home, hungry for dinner, but were always rebuffed.
"Nuh uh, no way," Maria would firmly state. "I cooked this fresh chicken for Max. You can go get your own food!"
Maria was also a well-known bunny whisperer, taking care of Danielle's bunny rabbit, Charcoal who, unsurprisingly, LOVED her as she did Danielle. She'd stay at Danielle's place when she was traveling for work to take care of Charcoal and loved every minute of it, leaving notes of her adventures with the rabbit. Give Charcoal a wrong treat? Woah! She'd turn her little powder puff tail on you and shake her ears in sharp disapproval; but it'd only last for a moment. Because who could stay mad at Maria?
Bunny stuck in the house and refused to go outside? Never fear, Maria was here! When Charcoal refused to come downstairs one morning, Maria and her sister Helen were quickly dispatched, each carrying a bunny removal broomstick. The pair chased Charcoal around the bedroom, trying to get her to go outside. When they stopped to look around, there was Charcoal, sitting in the doorway, watching the two crazy ladies chasing each other – Bugs Bunny would have been proud.
And in Maria's last years, she took care of and, in turn, was taken care of by Sunny, the sweet Whippet doggie. Faithfully cooking for him, taking him outside when he needed to go and even attempting to bathe him (though, arguably, she got more of a bath than did he), Sunny LOVED her!
When Maria had to go to extended physical therapy in a facility after surgery, she would light up when we'd bring Sunny to visit. They had a very close relationship and she loved him, like Charcoal and Max, with all her heart.
In the last weeks of life, one comes to cherish even the smallest gestures. Maria was afflicted with Alzheimer's and Parkinson's; her particular manifestation was that she could no longer speak. Yet she never allowed the spark of her spirit to be extinguished. We were fortunate in that she retained her memories and knew us to the end.
"You're a good daughter," Maria managed to whisper, squeezing Danielle's hand, just days before she passed.
"You're a wonderful mom, we're so lucky to have you," Danielle whispered back, the last words they would manage to exchange.
"Making her laugh, that was what I cherished most," Mike said. "If all the stars are aligned just right, I can make a room full of people laugh. But the best feeling of all was making Mom laugh.
"The day before she died, Mom had her 'Yuck, this tastes awful' face on as her close friend Jerri was trying to get her to eat breakfast. I started yucking it up and, after a minute, I could see the corner of her mouth turn up into a smile. Pretty soon, she was smiling and laughing and eating the food she moments before couldn't apparently stand. I saw the glimmer in her eye that belied her condition, her age, her affliction.
That was our Mom.
A funeral will be held on Wednesday, May 1st at 10:10AM at Holy Name of Mary Church in San Dimas followed by internment at Rose Hills Memorial Park, Whittier, CA. Arrangements are under the direction of Douglass & Zook Funeral and Cremation Services, Monrovia, California.