With heavy hearts we announce the passing of Susan Horstmann. She passed peacefully on Thursday, March 14th. She shared 79 years of love and masterpieces with her family and friends. A Mass of Christian burial will be celebrated on Saturday, March 16, 2019 at 1 o’clock in the afternoon at St. Simon the Apostle Church, 1010 Green Pond Rd, Newfoundland, NJ 07435. Donations in her name may be made to a charity of your choice.
Susan was born in New York in 1939 to the late Andrew and Jessie Cummins. She was and always has been a talented artist and painter. After graduation she married her high school sweetheart John Horstmann and started their family. While raising a family of teenagers Susan enrolled in college and graduated with a BA in Fine Arts. She always found time to pick up her paintbrush. Many have been the lucky recipients of her works.
In her spare time, she loved heading to the beach or sailing with her husband. She was a doting wife and a beautiful mother. She was the proud Nana Sue to her grandchildren. The sun rose and set on the kids and she would brag of them to whoever would listen. Although we are saddened by her passing, we take comfort in knowing she is at peace and sailing with John once again.
She leaves happy memories to her children John, Jackie (David) Hicks and Stephen; her grandchildren Allyson, Emily and Callianne Hicks and Andrew and Trey Horstmann; and many more dear friends and relatives. Her husband John and her brother James passed previously.
I Am Standing Upon The Seashore
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.