Birth date: Oct 14, 1943 Death date: Jul 27, 2023
Francis Osentowski Obituary Francis Osentowski, D.M.A., was born Oct. 14, 1943 in Richmond, California, to Dr. F.J. and Dorothy Osentowski and passed away July 27, 2023 after suffering a stroke. Fondly called “Dr. O” for more th Read Obituary
A few years back, Francis told me that a music colleague had said to him, “Francis, you are the only of us who still thinks he can be famous.” I think it was meant as a compliment and Francis took it that way. I think he was proud that he had never given up on the hope that his music would be recognized. And it was. That optimism of his was part of what made Francis so great to be around. He exuded hope and an enthusiasm for life.
I didn’t think the last time I saw him would be the last time, lunch at a Mexican restaurant halfway between our homes. He was so much himself, so full of life, telling stories about a trip abroad with friends, keeping us laughing throughout the meal. It’s hard to think of that life force being extinguished, and as long as I live, Francis will continue to bring a smile to my face as I remember our times together at Thanksgiving watching football with his running commentary, talking baseball and Nebraska football, or music. And at his computer playing his latest pieces for me.
I was lucky enough to have collaborated with Francis on a number of songs. As I always told him, he did the heavy lifting, making my words into something beautiful. On his own, he took a poem I had written celebrating our son Adam’s adoption and turned it into an amazing song. It was and is a wonderful gift for us and for Adam and a very Francis thing to do. I can still see him on stage accompanying a singer through two of my poems he had improved into songs. He did everything about those songs: taking a poem I had already written, writing the music, molding the words, printing and recording them, sending them off to publishers, and if they were published or performed giving me equal credit.
That was his generosity, his open-heartedness. He was big. He didn’t need to be famous; he was so much more. He was Francis Osentowski.
Francis always popped into almost every Zoom session my friends and I had with Mary to say hello. He was the only husband that did that, but he couldn’t resist an interaction with a group. An impish (“I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t resist”) grin and there he was with a loving greeting to us all.
How many times have I heard Mary say, “Oh, Francis…” when he was going on about something? Mary, the down-to-earth, feet on the ground one, and Francis the fanciful l spirit.
He adored Mary and loved to tell the story of the time in his frat house when someone (maybe him) was going around yelling, “Mary Noble broke up with her boyfriend and is available.” He beat everyone else to the phone to call her, and the rest is history. (That one always got an “Oh, Francis” for sure.)
But my favorite story about Francis took place in the Presbyterian neo-natal unit just after Christopher was born prematurely. Mary had been discharged, but Chris was still in some danger, and Ed and I met them one night when they were visiting him. Mary was pale and vulnerable and not the strong “I’ve got this” woman I was used to. Francis was serious and calm and had his arm around her as we waited. She was frightened and probably so was he, but he was the one who was reassuring and steady and calm while Mary was visibly shaken. I saw then that Francis had a totally different side of him that still had the optimism and hope we had always seen, but also reflected the steady, strong guy who knew how to take care of his family.
And he did that in so many ways. By driving cross country to hear Tagni play in summer band camp concerts at the end of her session, to attending every practice and game that Chris ever participated in and coaching many of them. He was the biggest cheerleader of his grandchildren and noticed and encouraged every talent they had from computer skills to soccer to ballet to cheerleading and of course music.
Francis was INVOLVED with all caps in the lives of his family and had opinions about everything which he was more than happy to share with you.
I think of him as warm and loving and droll and impish and full of creativity and fun. But I also think of him as a steady and consistent presence that his family knew they could count on. He was dad, he was Mary’s husband and he loved those roles, but he was also a musician who never stopped creating music.
And he was a friend. When my sister Barbara lost her job when Golden Acres changed management, I sent an email to friends asking if anyone knew of job for someone in mid-life with her skills; he was the only one to respond. He introduced her to the Dean of Humanities at North Lake and that was the beginning of a wonderful second 16-year career for her. He cared enough to do something. To help out. Whether it was to answer my email with a job opportunity, to loan us his truck, to pick up a huge piece of art we needed help hanging, or to show up at our birthday parties, weddings and especially the Thanksgivings we celebrated with our chosen family in Dallas.
We were lucky enough to have had lunch with Mary and Francis this past spring and enjoyed the Francis of old telling stories, asking our advice about interfering with a friend’s life with some helpful advice (Oh, Francis, of course not!) and generally entertaining the whole table.
We will miss him so much and are still reeling from his loss, but knowing Francis was worth all the pain of losing him. He was a lot to lose and our hearts are with Mary, Tagni, Graeme, Kiera, Chris, Tam, Franklin and Faye. You had the very best in Francis and so did we.
A donation to the MD Parent Project has been made in Francis's memory.
