Mary Louise Gdovka (née Mahle), 85, of North Royalton, OH, formerly Solon, OH, passed away peacefully on November 2, 2024, from long-standing cardiac issues. Mary leaves behind a legacy of love, kindness, and devotion to her family.
The Obituary of Mary Gdovka
Mary, or Mary Lou, as she was known to her family and friends while growing up, was born on September 1, 1939. Her husband, a history buff, always reminded her that her birth date marked the day the world tilted toward the shadow of war. Amidst the clash of nations and a world of great uncertainty, however, this tiny baby girl offered a reminder that, even in the darkest hours, grace finds its way. With a gentle, comforting spirit, and hazel eyes that held a promise, Mary Lou was a quiet testament that love endures beyond all borders and that angels truly walk among us—bringing light, resilience, and love to all those who knew her. Mary was always there with open arms, a heart full of kindness, and a kitchen full of delicious food.
Mary was born in Live Easy, PA, and was the oldest of five children of Berkeley Paul Mahle and Bertha Eleanor (Stofcheck) of Carmichaels, PA. Mary was blessed with a childhood filled with the love and laughter of a large, lively family. She grew up surrounded by wonderful gatherings of cousins, aunts, and uncles. They were never without the joy of family reunions, marked by the sizzle and aroma of pig roasts, and the cherished memories that came with these grand family gatherings. She loved recounting tales of climbing trees with her brothers and sleepovers with her cousins, the Worches, where she and her cousins had to sleep sideways in the bed to make everyone fit.
She and her brothers often said that, despite being poor, they never felt it. They had everything they needed: a warm house, food on the table, clean clothes, each other, and the love of family. These family bonds shaped Mary’s life, and she brought the best qualities of her upbringing into every relationship—kindness, generosity, and an open heart.
Mary is survived and missed by her six children: Susan (Cecil) Tout, Karl (Peggy) Gdovka, Frank (Tracey) Gdovka, Michael (Alicia) Gdovka, David (Lynette) Gdovka, Linda (Glen) Jackson; her 13 grandchildren–all of whom carry the love and wisdom she so freely gave: Justin (Andrea) Tout, Mary (Gabe) Pou, Trevor Tout, Lindsey Tout, Joseph Gdovka, Anna Gdovka, Ava Gdovka, Sara Gdovka, Nicklas Gdovka, Natalie Gdovka, Louis Gdovka, Mailey Jackson, and Elliot Jackson; one great granddaughter: Cecilia Tout; a second great granddaughter, whom she so hoped to meet, on the way in March; and one brother, Bunky Mahle.
Mary was preceded in death by her husband of 62 years, Karl “Gus” Gdovka, her parents Berkeley and Bertha Mahle, and three of her siblings: Donald John Mahle, Peter Gilbert Mahle, and an infant brother named James.
From a young age, Mary showed an incredible work ethic. Each week at the one-room schoolhouse that she attended, she earned $0.25 by banging erasers for her teacher—a hard-earned reward she would eagerly take to the store to buy five skeins of embroidery floss. One childhood task with which she was never thrilled, however, was picking buckets of rocks out of her grandmother’s garden. As a teen, Mary worked at her Uncle Pete’s general store that she called the “Goody Goody Shop.” Her tasks included everything from pumping gas to slicing meats and scooping ice cream.
In high school, she excelled as both a student and as the head majorette. Her high school algebra class served as the meeting place for her lifelong partner, Gus. She fondly remembered his nervous habit of tapping his foot on the floor during class—an endearing quirk that, at the time, she found quite annoying.
In 1960, she married her high school sweetheart, and, for more than five decades, she and Gus walked side by side through their kingdom of days, building a beautiful life together. While raising their children, Mary filled her home with warmth, laughter, and the smell of homemade recipes. Before she gave birth to her firstborn daughter, Susan, Mary worked as a school secretary at a time when she was told not to leave the school office because “children shouldn’t see pregnant women.” Becoming a mother revealed her true calling, and, from then on, Mary devoted herself wholeheartedly to this lifelong profession, nurturing her children, and then grandchildren, with tireless dedication and patience.
Mary and Gus enjoyed a lively start to their marriage in a duplex in Nemacolin, living on one side and using the other for parties and family gatherings. Sometimes the parties were standing room only–a testament to their strong family and community ties.
As their family grew, with the addition of Karl, Frank, and Michael, Mary and Gus decided to purchase their first dream home–an 1800s farmhouse, complete with a barn and 10 acres–a purchase that her dad thought was outrageous. They spent several busy years renovating it into a welcoming home. They tore down walls, built an addition, poured concrete, and added heating–all while Gus built a career in the aluminum industry and while they raised their children. They mowed five acres of their property—well, more accurately, they would sit the kids on the riding mower and tell them to come back to the house when they were tired. The kids also enjoyed watching movies on the big screen of the Sky View Drive in from the back of the property.
Mary and Gus often reminisced about the incredible sweat and tears poured into renovating that home. One of their most heartbreaking memories, which they still spoke of with disbelief, was the barn fire that happened just days before Christmas in 1967. The fire caused an estimated $3,000 in damages, destroyed the barn, and most of their building and renovation supplies, along with a roundabout boat that they purchased by stashing Kennedy half dollars in a Santa Claus piggy bank. As always, Mary focused on her children and felt deeply grateful that she had moved their Christmas presents from the barn to the house in the days before the fire struck.
To save money during renovations, they used donated building supplies and completed most of the work themselves. Mary never shied away from tackling a project. When she was five months pregnant with her son, David, she bravely took on the task of laying tar paper and shingles on the roof, demonstrating her tenacity and determination. One season, she showcased her baking talents by picking so many apples from their trees that she baked an impressive 160 apple pies, which she then shared with family and friends. She dashed about the town of Carmichaels, taking care of nearby family, cooking food, cutting grass, and sewing and knitting clothes for her husband and children.
In 1972, Gus and Mary made one of the biggest decisions and changes of their lives and relocated their family to upstate New York–a decision that weighed heavy on her heart because her parents were in such poor health. They started a new life that involved many hours of hockey and mountains of snow. On the eve of 1975, Mary and Gus welcomed the final addition to their crew–a baby girl named Linda. Mary’s brother-in-law, Joe, affectionately called her “Cousin Fruitful” because of her many children, but Mary took it in stride, laughing and saying that she had to keep trying until she got her Linda.
After a few more relocations in the early 1980s, Mary and Gus settled in Solon, Ohio. Even though more opportunities to move presented themselves over the years to Mary and Gus, they chose to remain in Solon and keep that as their home base. In the early 1990s, Mary and Gus purchased a property on Norris Lake in Tennessee, where they initially planned to build a small cabin. As construction progressed, however, their vision for the house grew. Designed by Gus and constructed by their sons over many years, the lake house became their ultimate dream home. Named Live Easy in honor of Mary’s birthplace, the lake house offered her peace and joy, nestled in the beauty of the Tennessee wilderness, and it provided a place where she could be surrounded by her family. Over the next thirty years, it became the central hub for countless family gatherings.
Her children loved walking into the kitchen and finding freshly-baked pepperoni rolls or her famous Texas sheet cake waiting for them. With so many eager hands and hungry mouths, her batches of Nestlé Toll House cookies never lasted long.
Her most cherished recipe was her version of kluski—a Polish dumpling dish made with potato dough and served with butter and sautéed onions.
Kluski dinners, rounded out by pork chops and applesauce, were her most requested meal, and kluski remained her most requested recipe–a seemingly simple recipe, prepared with potatoes, flour, salt, egg, and cracker crumbs–but anyone bold enough to attempt it quickly learned that it needed a special touch. Her family frequently joked that she stirred in an extra cup of butter and love into everything that she made.
Her menus were simple but delicious. Mary reserved Monday dinners for spaghetti and homemade meat sauce, which she thoughtfully prepared each week because she knew that her son Michael loved it. Her children remember the smell of frying cabbage–the filling for her homemade perogies–that served as their pungent alarm clock on Christmas Eve. Christmas, New Year’s, and every holiday were made unforgettable by the comforting taste of her homemade stuffing and gravy, nut rolls, halupki, and other delicious dishes that became the heart of each celebration. At birthday celebrations, her family quickly devoured her homemade ice cream cake.
Mary’s insatiable love of fabric and her passion for sewing touched the lives of everyone who knew her, as she meticulously stitched together not only fabric but also memories and bonds with family and friends. From basic cottons to flannels and fleeces, and from lace and silk to wool and Moygashel linen, Mary’s fabric collection was vast and varied. Her basement workshop housed five industrial sewing machines and shelves that held decades worth of carefully selected textiles, each one a reminder of her love for the craft. From elaborate Halloween costumes to professional window treatments that adorned her childrens’ homes to intricate hand-sewn gifts to last-minute prom dresses and to the best flannel baby blankets, Mary found joy in the art of creation.
What started as a practical, money-saving hobby led to a profession as she was employed for a few years in the 1980s at the JC Penney custom upholstery factory in Solon, Ohio. For Mary, sewing was not just a hobby—it was a way of offering her love, stitched carefully into every seam. She once sewed 17 bridesmaid and junior bridesmaid dresses for her cousin Michele’s wedding—a celebration that, ironically, she could not attend because she welcomed her fourth son just days before. In a touching gesture, the wedding party made a special stop by her and Gus’s farm house, giving her the chance to see the ladies proudly parade in the beautiful dresses she had so lovingly crafted. She spent countless hours at her sewing machines, perfecting every detail with care, and, for the recipients, her creations became quiet reminders of her love for them. Her granddaughters remember her passing on her love of sewing by gifting them with sewing machines, lessons, and she always had fabric with which to practice so that they could bring their creations to life.
When she visited her grandkids, she never arrived empty handed. On birthdays, she made sure no sibling was left out, bringing a gift for him or her as well. The surprises ranged from Lego and craft kits to “chocolate beans” and even real Golden Retrievers. Eager to wish them happy birthdays, she would often call her grandkids in the wee hours of the morning to send her greetings before they left for school.
Her grandchildren fondly remember how she sent cards for every occasion–birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Easter, and Halloween–and how she signed her cards, “with all my love always, Grandma.”
As an enthusiastic sports spectator, Mary never missed her children's or her grandchildren’s athletic events, often juggling multiple games and sports, including baseball, football, hockey, basketball, and volleyball, despite the age differences among her kids and then grandkids. Whether watching golf or bowling or cheering for the Steelers, University of Kentucky basketball, or the Cleveland Guardians or Cavs, her love of sports was unwavering. One of her granddaughters noted that Mary always knew the names of the UK basketball players, from where they had been recruited, and all the recent scores. In addition to sports viewing, and before she was plagued by arthritic knees, Mary was an avid bowler. For many years, she spent her Wednesday mornings at the bowling alley, where her competitive spirit shone through as she rolled strikes and spares. Her collection of bowling trophies and her high score of 278 served as a testament to her passion for the sport.
The soundtrack of Mary’s life included the songs of Rod Stewart, Frank Sinatra, Neil Diamond, The Carpenters, Barry Manilow, and Joshua Kadison. They filled her home with happiness and nostalgia. If asked about her favorite song, Mary would begin to sing the beginning of it, “Your kisses take me to Shangri-La” by Bobby Vinton, and she would recount the story of when she and Gus took a day trip to Pittsburgh, and he bought her the album. Then, when getting back in the car, she forgot that the record was on the seat, and she accidentally sat on it and broke it, which left her heartbroken. He replaced the album, and she always remembered it as their song. These artists provided the soundtrack to her life–musicians whose stories came to life in their songs and whose words touched her heart.
Mary always offered excellent advice, including one enduring mantra: "Kill them with kindness," and she lived her life with a spirit of compassion and generosity. Mary had a light-hearted sense of humor, often telling her family, "You're not getting out of here alive," reminding them to cherish each day and not take life too seriously.
She was the steady hand and the gentle heart in times of need, always knowing the right words to say and offering her love without hesitation. Just the sound of her voice had the ability to calm you instantly and make everything alright–no matter the problem. Mary understood the power of silence in a noisy world and often reminded us, "If you really want people to listen, you should whisper." Her little ones took this to heart so fully that once, when she lost her voice to a cold, the entire household of children spoke in whispers. In her calm, steady way, she became a pillar of support, her actions speaking louder than any words ever could.
Her grandchildren looked forward to visiting her homes, where she had a knack for making fun out of very simple tasks and items. In Solon, her front flower bed became a canvas for their imaginations. Often armed with nothing more than paintbrushes and a bucket of water, her grandkids would pass hours “painting” rocks–each watermark serving as a small but cherished memory of time spent with their beloved grandmother. Other days, she stood back and admired the tangled web of caution tape that her grandkids strung about her family room as their construction zone scenarios played out. At the lake house in Tennessee, Mary would watch the grandkids come up the hill from the lake after late mornings spent boating and tubing to join her on the patio for big family lunches. Whether sitting together in the shade, playing cards, sharing stories, or enjoying her home’s warmth, Mary always made each of her grandchildren and house guests feel deeply loved and special. Those moments spent together, filled with family, laughter, and big meals, were among her most sacred memories. She cherished every opportunity to proudly share her grandkids’ activities with everyone that she met.
Mary had a remarkable gift for connecting with people; she could walk into any room and make everyone feel valued. Her sons-in-law especially admired her openness and candid nature. One of them observed that Mary was such a good listener that you often found yourself sharing thoughts you either did not know you had or had not planned to reveal. She was a compassionate listener, commiserating without offering judgment or unsolicited advice. And when she heard a bizarre story or an account of unfairness, she’d simply shake her head and say, “That’s not right!” Her daughters-in-law described Mary as a confidant and cherished friend, known for her generosity and her true gift for hospitality. One of her daughters-in-law shared that Mary never said goodbye without making sure you knew just how much she loved you.
Her care and compassion shone through as she cared for sister-in-law, Anne, and her mother-in-law, Albina. She helped them with daily tasks, especially as age began to take its toll, and she always included them in family events and gatherings. Whether it was preparing meals for them, keeping them company at appointments, or simply chatting, she gave herself without ever expecting anything in return.
Mary cherished family ties, especially with her brother, Bunky, and his wife Sandy, with whom she and Gus shared countless vacations, trips to Pittsburgh for Steelers games and events like the annual Iron and Steel Ball, and spirited card games of 500. This foursome spent hours around the table, shuffling, dealing, and sharing the thrill of every hand. Each game brought moments of friendly rivalry and warmth, deepening the bond between them.
Her grandchildren agree that Mary's patience had no limits, even to the chattiest of granddaughters to whom she would frequently say, “boy, you sure do love to talk.” She clocked countless, loving hours with her grandchildren and was known for her rather permissive nature—though she did have her limits. One grandson recalls a day when a group of them was launching Hot Wheels off of a balcony, running wild and screaming throughout the house, when Mary suddenly shouted, “Who do you think I am, the Cat in the Hat?! Everyone, get in the living room and sit on the couch!” Without a doubt, the depths of her patience were tested and proven in her ability to care for her husband as his physical and cognitive deficits became increasingly pronounced. After he passed, when asked if she missed Gus, Mary would smile tearily, and say, “every day.”
Mary had a playful side, too, with a habit of “collecting” small coffee spoons from restaurants and cafes because they were perfect for feeding babies and toddlers. One of her most memorable escapades happened at a hillside café in Prague, where she managed to “borrow” several glass coffee mugs and a Gaulois cigarette ashtray. She was so discreet that even her family members who were sitting at the table didn’t notice her slipping the items into her handbag. She also was known for her wit and sense of humor. One April Fool’s Day, she pranked her son, Frank, by sprinkling his breakfast grapefruit with salt instead of sugar. In doing so, she could have never known that she would eventually be surrounded by clever, mischievous grandchildren who were always ready to serve April Fool’s jokes to her. Enter Dan Gliesaq.
Her sense of humor was as unique as her personality. Family members recall her cracking up while watching The Hangover, a testament to her unexpected love for raunchy comedy. Many would never suspect that she would have listed The Sopranos, Law and Order, and The Closer as some of her favorite TV shows, and she never missed an episode of Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune. She served as our resident Al Roker, reporting the weather from Lexington to Morgantown to overseas–wherever her loved ones happened to be. She also would have listed Only You, Dr. Zhivago, The Last of the Mohicans, and La La Land as some of her favorite films. Other favorites of hers included: the Commander’s Palace in New Orleans, Lilliput Lane collectible houses, pewter figurines, playing card, birds and ducks, the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, veal parmesan, Kentucky hot brown sandwiches, roses, orchids, the Fibonacci sequence, Saltines, coffee, Yul Brynner in The King and I, Fuzzy Navel cocktails, the poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and buying American Girl dolls for her granddaughters.
Even though people would not describe her as terribly adventurous, one of her absolute favorite memories was a serene hot balloon ride over Palm Springs, CA. The stillness and quietness of the experience filled her with a great sense of peace and wonder. She experienced the same sense of awe during the solar eclipse that passed by Cleveland in 2024. She was tickled that, even at 83 years young, she could share such a unique event with some of her grandchildren. Mary was always a willing participant in family events, whether it was pretend tea parties with her grandchildren, traveling Europe, murder mystery parties, canvas painting, or pierogi festivals. As long as she was surrounded by family, she was happy.
As Mary’s health declined, she spent more and more time with her daughter, Susan, to whom she was deeply grateful. Susan balanced medical expertise with the deep love and loyalty that only a daughter could feel, administering treatments and offering comfort. Mary also felt deeply thankful for her sons, Karl and David, who lovingly tended to the family’s lake house in her final years when she could no longer care for it.
With each visit, they handled the small but vital tasks—repairing the dock, mowing the lawn, and keeping everything as she remembered. Their devotion keeps the house alive, a place filled with memories of laughter and summer days. Seeing their care filled her heart with pride, knowing they were preserving a piece of their family’s legacy for future generations.
If asked, she would say her biggest regret was never becoming the kindergarten teacher that she dreamed of being. However, with her collective group of children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, and the children of family and friends far and wide, she was truly the most warm and nurturing teacher for which any of them could have wished.
Her presence will be deeply missed, but her spirit and the beauty she brought into the world lives on through the hearts of the family and friends who loved her so dearly.
As the matriarch of a large, often lively and unruly family, the greatest gift she ever gave them besides her love was the gift of each other. One of her nieces said it best upon learning of her passing, “no one could hold a candle to Aunt Mary Lou.” Without a doubt, her parents chose the perfect name for her—Mary, which means "beloved."
A private celebration of life will be planned for her at a later date. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be made in her memory to the Southwest General Health Center’s Acute Rehab in Middleburg Heights, Ohio. To donate, please use the link below, select “This gift is in memory of,” and enter “Mary Gdovka”
Written by Linda Jackson, in loving memory of her mother.
18697 Bagley Road C105
Middleburg Heights, OH 44130
Please write “Mary Gdovka” on the check's memo line.
