Deann Joy D'Ambrosio

DeAnn Joy D'Ambrosio, 47, born on February 15, 1966, in Pasadena, California, passed away August 17, 2013. She resided in La Crescenta, California at the time of her passing. Arrangements are under the direction of Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, CA.

From Amanda
Mom is...a great leader. Mom is an awesome party thrower. Mom is active at my school. Mom is a good counselor. Mom is always involved in Girl Scouts and the Scouts love her. Mom is always mom. She is my best friend. My Mom is strong.

From Kyle
Mom was is an expert prankster and taught me some of the great tricks of the trade – like taping the flex hose on the sink on so that the next unsuspecting dishwasher would turn on the water they would be sprayed head to toe. And yes, she got me more than I got her.


From Michael
Dearest DeAnn

There are no words to make the feelings of loss and sorrow go away…

You fought so valiantly to stay with us. We all thought that there would be more time. But in the end this horrible disease stole you away from us.

You suffered so much pain. So many tests and needles and surgery and medications. So many sleepless nights. And if you ever wanted to give up. I know you didn't because of us. You fought and fought and fought.

I only take comfort now because I know you are at peace and no longer suffering.

You taught me so much. To have patience. To not worry about the small stuff…Or even the big stuff.

You taught me the value of friends and friendship. And with that , we are blessed with so many …

If you are worried, please don't. I will take care of our children with the help of our family and our friends.

And that is your legacy … Our amazing kids and the people you touched and inspired throughout your life.

I will love you forever. And I know in my heart that one day I will see you again.

Good bye my sweet. Good bye for now.


From Jennifer
Hi, Sweetie,

Michael asked me if I could speak here today.

Actually, first, he asked me if I had any funny stories about you. And you know, I couldn't think of any. Not because we didn't laugh—because we were always laughing—but because that's not really what our friendship was about.

Our friendship was about being real. It was about supporting each other and building each other up. It was about comforting and empathizing, about cutting through the crap, and about being there for each other in the ways that we could. And DeAnn, over the last week, I'm not surprised to learn that you were this kind of friend to everyone.

You were always there for me, in a way that only the closest of friends can be.

When I think back to every major life event since we met in 1987 at Cal State Long Beach, we did them together. Your college graduation, and mine. Building our careers as young professional women in our 20s. You met Mike. I was so blessed to be in your wedding. Then when I moved away from home, you came with me. You volunteered to drive with me to grad school at Stanford, and you helped me to move in. You wouldn't even let me pay for your plane ticket home. When I graduated, you were there in your beautiful royal blue dress.

You and Michael came out to visit when I worked at New York University, even though you were pregnant with Kyle, and in your own words, "bigger than a house." When I moved to UCLA for my Ph.D., you visited, and celebrated at my commencement. I met Chris. You helped me to search for places for our wedding. I'll always remember walking through the oak grove at Descanso Gardens with you, imagining the people, the flowers, everyone's heels sinking into the dirt. We decided it wasn't the best location.

You welcomed guests at our wedding. When it was my turn to be as big as a house, you strung up clothes at Alia's baby shower. You brought food and came to hold her after she was born. She called you "Auntie DeAnn." You brought Amanda and Kyle to her first birthday party, and then Amanda the years after. You gave Alia Amanda's clothes.

During these last 26 years, if I was uncertain about what I was doing and if it was even worth doing, you cheered me on, told me how proud you were of me. Every step of the way. Your support and your love helped me to grow. You always empathized with me when I told you about my struggles to become my own person, independent of my family, but still a part of it.

Throughout it all, we had so much fun. In my pictures and memories of you, I see you dancing—at the Queen Mary, in line at graduation, in those beautiful sequined tennis shoes at your wedding, at your surprise 40th birthday party. I hear you exclaiming your friends' names, so happy to see everyone. Like a sister, you gave me advice about the everyday things that make a life—our families, relationships, kids, work, insurance, cars, and homes. Through it all, we laughed at ourselves, mostly at how much we didn't know.

In the last two years, you gave me the company of your understanding. When I was diagnosed with kidney cancer two years ago, you said that maybe you went through your first diagnosis, treatment and recovery so that you could help me. You reminded me that we were both 42 when first diagnosed. At first, I was too pissed off to believe that you, or anyone, had to suffer in order to help me. But as time went on, I knew I could turn to you and you would "get it." When I saw you after you learned that your breast cancer had recurred, we hugged each other and wouldn't let go. With you, I could share my "cancer humor," two words that seem as if they should never go together. But it meant that we could laugh at the ridiculousness of our lives, and we could also cry at the ridiculousness of our lives. We cursed cancer, gave it every single four-letter word we had.

And when we got to the topic of dying—our worries about our husbands and our children—I will always remember us just holding each other in silence, looking into your eyes, tears streaming down our faces, sharing what we knew and what we feared. Keeping each other company with our understanding.

DeAnn, I'm saying good-bye to you in person today, to your being with me physically in my happiest of times, to your bearing witness and sharing my worst. Because of you, I know who I am.

But don't even think I'm letting you go.

Because you and I could always communicate, even in silence, from heart to heart, I know you'll always be here (hand over heart).

And here (hand to head).

And here (gesture to everyone).

Thank you for being my sister and my friend.

I love you, Sweetie.

-Jennifer A. Yee