Patricia Ann De Loreto

Patricia Ann (Black) De Loreto, 84, of Fort Myers, Florida resident since 2024, formerly of Magnolia, DE, and Parsippany, NJ, passed away Wednesday, December 10, 2025, in Cape Coral. She was born November 13, 1941, in Denville, NJ.

She is survived by her two daughters, Lori Ann De Loreto of Louisiana and Jodee De Loreto, (Travis) of Fort Myers, FL; two brothers, Jack Black (Martha) of FL and Dennis Black (Christine) of NJ; five grandchildren, Justen, Zechariah, Nicole, JT and Jared; one great-grandchild, Emilio, nieces Patty, Christine, Lois, Doreen and nephew David.

Patricia was preceded in death by her husband Joseph DeLoreto, sisters-in-law Keiko and Roberta (Black), nieces Terry and Linda Black, nephew Dennis Black, brother Robert Black, parents John and Laura Black.

Our mom, Patricia De Loreto, was love in motion. She was always willing to help, always putting everyone else before herself. Incredibly sweet, kind, loving, funny, silly, smart, and artistic, she had a way of making people feel seen and cared for simply by being near her. You could feel her love just sitting next to her. 

To call her Mom was a privilege beyond words, and because of her, we are better women — grounded in love, compassion, and generosity. 

Mom worried about everyone. She never forgot a birthday, anniversary, or special occasion, and she always sent a card — usually early — because she worried it wouldn’t arrive on time. 

Mom was who we went to when something didn’t feel right — with us or with our kids. We never needed a baby book or instructions. We had Mom.

 Mom had a gift for noticing people. She saw the smallest details — a new necklace, the way your hair was styled, a tan, a color that looked especially good on you — and she always said something. Her compliments weren’t polite or automatic; they were specific, thoughtful, and sincere. She made friends, family, and even complete strangers feel seen in a way that stayed with them long after the moment passed. 

You could be standing in line somewhere and suddenly hear her telling someone how pretty their earrings were, how nice their smile was, or how great they looked that day. And she meant it. Making people feel good wasn’t something she tried to do — it was something she naturally did everywhere she went. 

The kitchen table was the hub of our home. It’s where everything happened. Friends and family alike would sit there for hours — talking, laughing, sharing stories, solving problems. People stopped by randomly, unannounced and unplanned, and somehow there was always room — and she loved that. Sometimes there were so many people and not enough chairs that we even sat on the counter. But when people stopped by, she made sure everyone was fed, and no one ever left empty-handed. 

So many conversations happened there — the serious ones, the funny ones, the everyday ones that somehow mattered the most. It was where Mom listened, offered advice, shared a laugh, or quietly made sure everyone was okay. If you were at the kitchen table, you were home. And when Mom was there, you were taken care of.

Mom’s joy was sharing in others. Other people’s happiness made her happy. She loved being part of people’s lives — their stories, their milestones, their everyday moments. 

The kitchen was Mom’s happy place. She truly loved to cook, and nowhere was that more evident than on Sundays. Long before anyone else was awake, she would already be in the kitchen, starting the gravy early. We woke up to the smell first — rich, warm, unmistakable — and then the sounds of her cooking: meatballs sizzling, pots clinking, her moving steadily around the kitchen. You didn’t need a clock. If you smelled gravy, you knew it was Sunday. 

As the day went on, we’d settle into watching football in the basement, the smell of dinner cooking its way through the house. Mom would come down with us, ironing clothes for the entire week while the game played. Mom nearby, the smell of gravy simmering — it was just life. Normal. Perfect. Safe. 

That was her way — feeding us, taking care of us, making sure everything was ready before anyone even thought to ask. Sunday wasn’t just a day in our house; it was a feeling. And that feeling was Mom. 

Music filled our home — and our lives. Mom played it loud while she cleaned, danced through the house, and sang along, usually off-key and completely unapologetic. She didn’t care if she hit the right notes. 

She loved music everywhere — especially in the car. Windows down, sunroof open, music blasting, “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart (that song really applies here, in this moment) playing as she sang along, her hair blowing in the wind. Those drives were pure joy. Laughing, singing, feeling the moment — that was Mom. 

Mom knew how to enjoy the simple things. She loved a good wine spritzer — red wine with Sprite — and a hot cup of tea. She loved the rain. When it rained, she would open the windows just to listen, standing quietly by the window, watching it fall. It brought her peace, and to this day it brings us peace too. 

She was an excellent seamstress and made all of our Halloween costumes with care and creativity. One year, we were the Jolly Green Giant and Little Sprout, and Mom hand-sewed every single leaf. And it wasn’t just that year — she did that throughout our childhood, staying up all hours of the night to make sure our costumes were perfect.

Mom was incredibly neat and organized. Order mattered to her. Her handwriting was beautiful — neat, distinctive, and unmistakably hers — and you could spot it anywhere. She loved having everything labeled, and if it wasn’t moving, it was probably labeled. Post-it notes were everywhere — reminders, lists, and little details she didn’t want forgotten. 

Mom was a devoted wife, mother, sister, aunt, grandmother, great-grandmother, and friend. Her main focus was always her family. Raised by a selfless mother herself, she lived a life defined by love and compassion for others. 

She was truly one of a kind, and the world is better because she was in it. Her love shaped us, steadied us, and will live on in everything we do.

A Celebration of life will be held at a later date. 

Donations can be sent to https://baby2baby.org, a nonprofit that provides basic necessities for children living in poverty in the United States.