Tessie Marie Roy

This will not be a traditional obituary.

Tessie wasn’t a traditional, mainstream kind of woman. She moved through life to the rhythm of her own making, curious, creative, and entirely herself.

To love Tessie was to go on an adventure. Together, we traveled to places that became stories simply because she was in them. We made homes in the desert, by the ocean, in the mountains, and near quiet lakes, most of them shared with the cats she loved so deeply, each one a reflection of her restless spirit and her way of turning anywhere into something a little more magical. One of the images we hold close, and the one we share here, is of Tessie with “Pretty Girl,” a small, perfect snapshot of the tenderness and joy she found in the companionship of our cat.

Music was at the center of who she was. It wasn’t just something she loved; it was something she was. She had a rare and beautiful gift: she could hear a song and, moments later, sit at the piano or pick up her guitar and bring it to life as if it had always lived in her hands. It never stopped amazing me. She created a notebook for songs she loved to play and would often ask me to close my eyes, open a page, and point to a song. And voila, the song would flow effortlessly! Music was her love language.

Her love of music began early and stayed with her always. One of her sisters remembers the youthful joy of those first discoveries, playing a Beatles record over and over again, a thousand times, and then turning imagination into reality by creating “Beatleland” in the woods across the street from their house. It was a place of wonder, creativity, and pure joy, very Tessie.

Another sister remembers falling asleep to the gentle sound of Tessie playing guitar, soft, steady, and comforting. Those were the nights of songs shared, of simple togetherness, of music filling the space between people. It was peace. It was connection. It was her.

She also carried a deep and relentless love of learning. Tessie was endlessly curious, devouring information and following her interests wherever they led. She had a particular passion for history, especially music history, always wanting to understand not just the song, but the story behind it.

One of her sisters remembers how they would share the songs that came to them in their dreams as they woke each day—an exchange that felt as natural and meaningful as anything in waking life. It is a connection that will be deeply missed.

Tessie was also a true lover of food and a creator of it. For 17 years at the Olney Ale House in Ashton-Sandy Spring, Maryland, she was the cook (though I always called her a chef). This was never just a job to her. Through her food, her homemade soups, fresh breads, and her unforgettable lemon tahini dressing, she created a kind of community, a family, and a following that endured over the years. People came for the food, but they stayed for her. Even just days before her diagnosis, she woke from an “Ale House” nightmare, a small and telling reminder of how deeply that place and its people lived within her.

Tessie was, at her core, a deeply spiritual being. She found meaning and comfort in many forms, cats, crystals, nuns, saints, music, celestial horoscopes, dream catchers, and water, just to name a few. She experienced the world as something layered and alive with connection and mystery. There was always something more to feel, to notice, to believe in.

In the year before her passing, Tessie also carried the profound loss of her brother, Michael, a grief she held with the same depth and quiet strength that she brought to all things.

To try to capture Tessie in a few paragraphs feels almost impossible. She was joy and depth, talent and curiosity, movement and music. She expanded the world of those who loved her; opened ears, hearts, and horizons. Along the way, we were held up by so much care and kindness. The teams at Milford Regional Hospital, Dana-Farber, and Hope Health Hospice carried Tessie with compassion and grace. And Paolo Motino Echeverri, an earth angel, stood beside us as Tessie’s primary caregiver once she was home. For Paolo, this was not just a job, it is a calling. She cared for Tessie and for me on every level, even cooking meals and bringing comfort into our home when we needed it most.

You are deeply loved, Tessie; by PJ, Mary, Bob, Christine, Kevin, Nadine, Peggy, Gloria, Will, and by the many nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, sisters-in-law, brother-in-law, and dear friends whose lives you touched.

And for those of us lucky enough to walk beside you, life will never sound quite the same without you, but it will always carry your music.

We will gather, in time, in a private way, to celebrate her life, just as she would have wanted.