Margaret Mary Korowicki

Margaret Mary Korowicki, 92, of Washington, passed away peacefully, Thursday, June 20, 2024, in Woodside Place, Washington. She was born November 16, 1931, in Meadow Lands, a daughter of the late Henry and Mary Kurek Yankovitch. Margaret was a graduate of Immaculate Conception High School and a member of Immaculate Conception Church, St. James Parish. She was employed by Bell Telephone of Pennsylvania as a switchboard operator and was an active member of the Bell Telephone Ten Year Club. On May 16, 1953, in Immaculate Conception Church, she married the love of her life, Leo Korowicki, who died on September 24, 2015. They celebrated 62 years of marriage. Margaret had many passions in her lifetime, but her greatest devotion was to her family. She was a wonderful wife, mother and grandmother, who was always there when you needed her the most, giving endless love and support. She was a friend to many, leaving a legacy of kindness and generosity. Surviving are three children, Patricia Casper, Edward (Vicky) Korowicki and Lisa (Sid) Manning; six grandchildren, Jason Casper, Joseph (Catherine) Korowicki, Kristen (Dave) LaRusse, Mark (Amber) Korowicki, Alissa (John) Botticchio and Maggie Manning (Ben Geraud); and six great-grandchildren, Madison Korowicki, Philip, Levon and Peter LaRusse, and Leo and Gabriel Korowicki. In addition to her parents and husband, Margaret is preceded in death by a sister, Patty Lulu and a brother, Henry. Family and friends will be received from 10 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., the time of a blessing service, Monday, June 24, 2024, in William G. Neal Funeral Homes, Ltd., 925 Allison Avenue, Washington. Entombment is private in Washington Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Dementia Care through the Presbyterian Senior Care Foundation, 835 South Main Street, Washington, PA 15301. Additional information and guest book are available at www.NealFuneraHomes.com. To my dear children, Your mother is always with you. She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well. Your mother lives inside your laughter. And she’s crystallized in every teardrop. She’s the place you came from, your first home. And she’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love and your first heartache. And nothing on Earth can separate you. Not time, not space, not even death.