Marynella Martha Burkard

Thank you all for being here today to honor my mom, Marynella “Mary” Burkard. Your presence means so much to our family and shows just how many lives she touched. I wish she could see us all here, for her.

Id like to take a moment here, as we’re gathered to remember her, to commend her to God, and to give thanks for the years we were blessed to share with her.

As a little girl, my Mama was my whole world. Everything she did was her way of giving me her version of the American dream.

She always wanted the very best for my brother and me. When my parents moved to Pinole, she chose this warm community, with a home with a yard where we could run, swing, and just be kids. I remember playing outside with her, walking down to the bay, gardening and coming here to St. Josephs.

My Mama was generous and always looking for ways to help others. During Christmas, from picking angel ornaments from the giving tree to give gifts to making sure every family member and friend had something to open at our Family Xmas Eve Party (even if they joined last minute).

She truly believed she had an answer for everything—and if you knew her, you know she usually did. Whether you came to her with a problem, a big decision, or just everyday life, she was ready with advice, a story, or a very strong opinion. Like knowing more than the doctor (or any expert) because she googled it.

She was strong and pushed us to be brave—even if that meant running through the icy waters of Pacifica, climbing the highest mountain top or become an engineer. We did it and while we'd argue with her it was our idea we'd eventually let her win that it was her idea all along just because deep down we knew it was because of her that we had the strength to even do it.

She had a way of challenging me (let's be honest I am as hard headed as she is so it would be a battle Royale) but she still made me feel completely loved, like I always had someone in my corner.

To her, I wasn’t just “Christien Marie.” I was her tortuguita, her petunia, her social little butterfly. The daughter whom she expected to be strong like her.

Yes, my mom was tiny but mighty (at 5ft tall). We respected her, and yes, sometimes we feared her wrath and that skinny little belt on the backs of our legs. Which didn’t really hurt; mostly it turned into laughter, with us teasing her until she ended up laughing too.

She liked to joke that we were the “Burkard family zoo” because of all our animals (soo many). She always seemed to find a way to come home, convince Dad, with two dogs, or to say yes to a new pet when we got good grades. Secretly we all know she was the one who loved them most and couldn't say no.

When she was happy the whole room could feel it. Her smile was contagious and if she heard her favorite Michael song, then you knew it was time to stop and dancing would take over. Regardless of what she was doing or where she was at or who was watching (because she'd pull them in to join her)!

Her heart was big, even when she tried to guard it or act tough.

My Mama was not perfect—though she might argue that point with me. Her strength sometimes came with sharp edges. There were hard moments, lessons we had to unlearn, and hurts that needed healing. But even there, she was shaping us. She taught us resilience, faith, and how to stand up for ourselves. We learned we would have to accept things we can't control but changes the thing we can.

She was my Mama who hugged me tight and sang the same lullaby every night no matter what—the same one I now sing to my boys—“Sueña con los angelitos…” Her voice and those words made me feel safe, like I could do anything and everything was possible.

They still do, and that love and courage has stayed with me my whole life.

In her later years, especially as she faced this illness, we saw her courage —her determination to keep going, even when it seemed impossible.

On December 1, she was carried to the clouds, in heavens arms and went home to God. Even though she isn’t with me in the way I long for, her spirit is everywhere: in her red roses, in her grandsons’ laughter, in her favorite songs, in this Christmas season, every time we say “learn, baby, learn,” and in every act of faith or generosity we carry forward.

I love her deeply, and standing here today is one small way of saying thank you for all she gave me and all she gave us.

Mama, thank you—for your sacrifices and your strength, for your faith and teaching us, for your prayers and your opinions, for your laughter, your cooking, your dancing, and your love. Thank you for making me who I am today.

I will miss you every day, but I will live in a way that makes you proud of your daughter. I love you.

-Christien's Eulogy