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Mary Catherine Ristau, known to many as Mary Kay, passed away at the age of 71 on April 1, 2025, surrounded by her beloved husband, Gary, and her daughters. She was born in Grand Haven, Michigan, in 1953.
Mary spent the majority of her career as the director of Trinity Preschool in Mount Prospect, where she touched the lives of countless children and families. Her enthusiasm for early childhood education was evident in the way she spoke about the children who passed through the school’s doors. She was devoted to her students, and the impact she made in their lives will never be forgotten.
Mary was a kind and loving soul who will be deeply missed by all who knew her. Her legacy of love, creativity, and devotion to family will live on in the hearts of those who were lucky enough to know her.
Sue Gillett says
I was so sorry to hear of your loss. Please accept my deepest condolences. Thinking of all of you during this difficult time.
Bev Parypinski says
I am so sorry. My thoughts are with you all during this difficult time.
Kathy Dopke says
So sorry to hear of Mary’s passing. RIP Mary. Love and prayers to the family.
Cerf Family says
Our deepest condolences on Mrs Ristau’s passing. She was truly a loving and kind person. Everyone who ever knew her is a better person for having known her.
Sebu Kowskie says
for mary, who preached like god but breathed like a corpse
they said she passed,
but she’d passed on decency long before the doctors made it official.
mary ristau.
all spit, no soul.
wore the cross like brass knuckles.
quoted scripture like she wrote it,
but couldn’t live a damn line of it.
you ever meet someone so full of righteousness
they leak from the mouth?
with her, it came in two ways—
the stench of something long dead
and the kind of words that cut strangers
and spared no friend.
if she had one.
she talked a lot about heaven
but walked like she owned hell.
and probably did.
at least the block with the chain-smoking angels
and the hypocrites’ poker table.
i’ll bet she’s there now,
telling Saint Peter how to do his job,
complaining the sinners are too brown,
too gay,
too joyful.
she prayed with the ferocity of a debt collector
and forgave like a banker in a drought.
there was no love in her gospel,
just rules and rot
and that mouth,
that godawful mouth,
fuming like a landfill at noon.
people like mary die twice—
once when the breath leaves,
and again when no one wants to say a kind thing after.
so I won’t.
cheers to the silence she finally gave us.