How do you say goodbye to the person who brought you into this world?
To the person who taught you to walk, to run, and to laugh—often at yourself.
Denise Retrosi Edmonds
July 17, 1946 – January 5, 2026 age 79
Denise Retrosi -Edmonds passed away peacefully at the age of 79, leaving behind a life so full, adventurous, creative, and deeply loved that it almost feels unfair to try to fit it into words.
Denise was born July 17, 1946, in Canton, Ohio, to Dean and Violet Carlisle. From the very beginning, she carried a toughness balanced by warmth, fairness, and an unmistakable joy for life. My mom was the original badass.
As a single mother early in our lives, she somehow mastered the art of being “spontaneous.” She would give my brother Chris and me a few hours to pack for a “quick trip” to Washington, D.C. or North Carolina. As an adult, I now understand how much planning, sacrifice, saved money, time off work, and sheer determination went into those so-called spontaneous adventures. She made magic look easy.
In 1982, Denise married Robert “Bob” Edmonds. Together they blended their families and raised four strong boys—each of whom went on to find their own versions of success, love, and purpose. She is survived by her husband Bob; her siblings Dean Carlisle (Flo Carlisle), Liz Carlisle, and Lisa McIntosh; and her children Tony Retrosi (Stephanie Retrosi), Tom Edmonds (Indra Edmonds), and Chris Retrosi. She is reunited with our brother, her son Jeff Edmonds (deceased), who was married to Bridget Edmonds.
Through those boys came nine grandchildren who were the absolute center of her world: Madison and Chase Retrosi; Emilia and James Edmonds; Joseph, Michael, and Mathew Retrosi; and Fiona and Oliver Edmonds. She didn’t just love her grandchildren—she invested in them. Hard. Fully. Joyfully.
My Mom spent much of her life in the gymnastics world as a coach, club administrator, and official, judging and coaching all the way up through National Championships. She was my first coach and mentor. I would not be the coach I am today without the education she gave me. She shaped athletes, but more importantly, she shaped people—teaching confidence, resilience, and how to show up prepared for life.
She was always up for adventure. She traveled widely, visited many countries, cruised Cape Horn, and seemed to collect experiences the way others collect souvenirs. From Iceland to Italy, from China to Argentina, from visiting family in Sweden to hiking Glacier National Park—if there was something new to see, she wanted to see it.
Music and laughter were constant companions. She loved to sing, performing with groups on the Seacoast of New Hampshire, and she loved entertaining. She was often the life of the party, always dressed to be noticed, always ready to celebrate life.
One of the most treasured chapters of Denise and Bob’s life was their home on North River Lake in New Hampshire. There, she taught everyone to waterski, and she and Bob were equally happy to provide near-death experiences on the tube. That lake became a training ground not just for balance and bravery—but for memories.
She was never the grandma who quietly baked cookies and whispered reminders. She was the grandma who took kids on expeditions. Picking up our children after a weekend with Grandma and Grandpa was always an adventure report: they had stayed up late to look at the stars, gone swimming and fishing, planted in the garden, gone for hikes, and possibly dissected roadkill. They were introduced to exotic cuisine like Hot Pockets and Cheese Whiz. Vegetables were rarely harmed in the process.
One memory that will never leave me is pulling into the driveway at the lake—both kids flinging their doors open, running full speed, and tackling her in the garden, covering her with kisses while she laughed so hard she could barely stand. I can still hear that laughter.
In retirement, after relocating to Punta Gorda, Florida in 2010, Denise didn’t slow down—she simply changed scenery. She became the grandma of the neighborhood. She gardened, beaded, crafted, birded, kayaked the Peace River, boated, fished, explored. She and Bob turned weekends into adventures.
In her Florida neighborhood, children constantly asked her to “come out and play.” She was loved there as she was everywhere—because she showed up, because she listened, because she laughed, because she made life feel lighter.
I always knew it wouldn’t last forever.
I just wished it lasted longer.
Mom lived boldly. She loved fiercely. She created a life full of movement, music, dirt under her fingernails, grandchildren in her arms, and stories that will be told for generations.
She was an avid reader and especially loved Stephen King novels introducing me to his work when I was about 12 and then my daughter to his writing as well. BTW- we just got a notice that she has an overdue book from the local library. Well- good luck tracking her down!
Her laughter will echo in all of us.
From Stephen Kings The Dark Tower:
Go Now, Our journey is done. And may we meet again in the clearing at the end of the path.
Untitled Poem I wrote the other night.
She stood like stone and summer rain,
tough hands, an open heart,
fair in her judgments, steady in her love,
never louder than her laughter.
She loved without bargaining,
taught without preaching,
and when life tested us,
she stood firm so we could bend.
Now she has crossed the quiet line,
where strong women are not laid to rest
but welcomed—
cups raised, stories told.
From Valhalla her laughter rings,
bright and fearless,
rolling like thunder we somehow recognize.
We walk on steadier ground because she walked first.
We love more bravely because she showed us how.
And though her hands we cannot hold,
her strength is woven into our days.
Tony Retrosi, 4 January 2026
Well, for starters, you can then make positive changes.