Irene Defotis

Irene DeFotis: Beloved mother, teacher and friend passed away peacefully in her home in Tucson, Arizona on Tuesday, April 29 th, 2025, a few weeks shy of her 81 st birthday. Born May 12, 1944 in Chicago Illinois to Aphrodite (Javaras) DeFotis and George DeFotis, She is survived by her three children; Matthew Meier (Married Jennifer Black Meier); Amalia Magaret (Married Craig Magaret) and Timothy Meier (Married Amy Beth Toosley) as well as one grandson Max Magaret. Irene was preceded in death by her siblings Nicky DeFotis, Bill DeFotis, Alexis DeFotis, Tom DeFotis and Maria Connors She is survived by her sisters Constance DeFotis, Sylvia Gillberg and brother George DeFotis.

Irene married David Meier in 1966 after a college romance at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale Ill. The pair followed David’s career, first to Missouri and later to Holland Michigan raising their three children together until their divorce in 1987.

Finishing college in Math and Education at 44, Irene, with her two oldest children off at college, started a career in education that would start in Grand Haven Michigan and last almost 30 years. She became the chair of the math department at Grand Haven High School and was beloved by students and colleagues. Her professional life lead her to North Carolina (following her dear friend Johanna Hodgson) and then finally to Tucson, Arizona to join her sister Sylvia as a snowbird. In semi-retirement, she used her math skills as a realtor and loan officer with a passion to helping people understand compound interest. Irene also never stopped tutoring… Helping young people grasp math concepts brought her real joy whether they were nieces, grandchildren, or students at Pima College, she never stopped helping others.

Her 3 children were her focus. She told each of them many times that they were her favorite, sometimes in front of the others. We all knew it was nonetheless true --We were loved “more than rice soup” (a favorite Greek staple). She prioritized family time, taking us bowling, to the beach, cross-country skiing. After dinner we played every kind of card and board game, and she would only occasionally (but openly) cheat as she especially hated to lose at Scrabble. On holidays, she gave abundant, personal presents and loved to see people enjoy that she knew them well enough to pick the perfect thing.

If you were lucky enough to have eaten at Irene’s table, she often “outdid herself” with the variety, quality and the quantity of her cooking. Perhaps it was a response to being the third of 9 children born to a tool and die maker in Chicago who couldn’t always provide adequate calories for his progeny. Perhaps it was the fond memories of her maternal grandfather’s Greek restaurant. A full belly in Irene’s house felt a lot like love. She poured over food magazines and cookbooks looking for interesting combinations of flavors and techniques to try. She reworked Greek recipes passed down through generations and added her own twist. Her international travels, and later conversations about them, centered around the meals eaten and how she might appreciate the flavors in her own kitchen. Farmers markets and in-season peaches were her treasures. Her deepest fear, thankfully never realized, was to languish in assisted living. Not because of the loss of autonomy, or lack of privacy, but because she might have to eat mediocre food.

Irene cared deeply for people. Her friend groups were diverse in every possible way. She made and kept lifelong friends everywhere she lived, and made those friends feel like family. Her house was a place where people just stopped by unannounced, and knew they would be welcomed, fed, and attended to.

Irene espoused a modest philosophy… Life was measured by simple pleasures. Sunsets, meals with friends, a handmade card with original artwork. (She became quite a good at watercolor painting after retirement.) She sewed gifts and never made anyone wonder if they were loved.

A celebration of life is being planned. Details to follow.

In lieu of flowers, please donate to ACLU and or write your congress person.