A twice monthly column about recently deceased South Jerseyans and how they lived
Wilfredo P. Rojas
You could go on for days discussing the impact of civil rights and justice advocate Wilfredo P. Rojas, a man whose life embodied the spirit of service for more than five decades.
But consider this: The Gloucester County resident – who died last month at 74 – suffered both a life-long physical debilitation and the unfathomable loss of a child.
How do you go on after such ugly twists of fate? In Wilfredo’s case, with resolve that was breathtaking.
“The guy never stopped,” his long-time friend and fellow activist, Juan Gonzalez, told nj.com.
A brain aneurysm paralyzed Wilfredo’s left side and hampered him for the rest of his life, recalled Loretta Winters, president of the Gloucester County NAACP, where Wilfredo was communications chair. Yet he went on to champion causes that first inspired him in elementary school.
His 34-year-old son, Alejandro Rojas García, was killed in a random shooting in 2015. But even with a heavy heart, Wilfredo channeled a father’s grief into founding the National Homicide Justice Alliance, a group of families who seek justice for murder victims.
“He was devastated,” Winters said of Wilfredo’s loss. “But it made him fight even harder for his causes. He believed God gave him his marching orders … and nothing stopped him.”
“Social justice was very dear to his heart,” noted Wilfredo’s wife, Carmen Marrero, “as well as advocating for the families of victims of gun violence. He was also a ardent believer that education is the great equalizer in society.”
Among honors Wilfredo earned for his community service was the 2017 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Champion for Justice Jefferson Award. According to Winters, Wilfredo often quoted this line from King: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
“He was both a good friend and a dynamic advocate,” Winters recounted. “You could always count on him – he was always there.”
Wilfredo was there for his loved ones, too.
“Although he fought for the community,” Marrero remembered, “his family was paramount in his life.”
A recitation of Wilfredo’s accomplishments and community work would be too long for this space. Winters summed it up this way: “He was an amazing human being. When people say they can’t do something, I look to him.”
Despite Wilfredo’s own travails, she added, “He was truly an inspiration.”
Sources: Landolfi Funeral Home, Echovita.com
Dr. Charles Joseph Moloney
Dr. Charles Joseph Moloney was rarely without the stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and other tools of a doctor’s trade that he carried in a black leather case. The long-time pediatrician known simply as Joe had patients who would sometimes stop at his Moorestown home when they needed his help.
That’s when the order would go out to his family: “Get my bag.”
That bag went on vacations, too, said Joe’s son, Michael, when the family made annual trips to the Outer Banks in North Carolina, just in case someone in the clan that would eventually total five kids, 19 grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren got sick.
Last year’s vacation “patients”: 49.
“He was always ready to help,” the younger Moloney noted of his proudly Irish father, who died last month at 90. “Dad was always available to his patients. And he brought his bag along on vacation just for security. So if anything happened, he was right there.”
The doctor is described in his obituary as a happy, good-spirited and devoted man who served the community with kindness and patience. Little people he treated who couldn’t say his name called him “Dr Baloney.”
“He was always a pleasure to be around,” Michael said. “I don’t think there’s anyone in town who saw dad with a bad disposition.”
Joe remained enthralled with the city where he was raised, Philadelphia. He loved the zoo, the Phillies, the Franklin Institute – all of it. He went to medical school at Penn, then completed his residency in pediatrics at CHOP after service as a Navy flight surgeon.
“He was proud of his Philly upbringing,” Michael noted.
But needing room for the growing family he was raising with his wife, Bernardine, Joe moved to Moorestown, where he opened his own practice in 1968 and where he expected his kids to join him every night for dinner.
“That was important to my father,” Michael remembered. “It was really important to him that we sit and talk to each other. And he loved a good argument.”
You can learn a lot about how a person impacted others by the number of people drawn to their funeral. Michael Moloney did. His father’s viewing drew so many mourners, it nearly delayed the service at the same church where Joe often attended daily 6 o’clock Mass, Our Lady of Good Counsel.
“I saw all these people I grew up with,” Michael noted, “telling stories of how dad saved their lives as little children.”
Stories about “Dr. Boloney” – and the black bag.
Sources: Lewis Funeral Home, Legacy.com
Heather Lynn Gibson
Heather Lynn Gibson abided in life with the verse Psalm 91:16: “With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation.”
The Berlin resident did not have a long life; she died last month at 54, according to her obituary in The Sun. But it was long enough to give her all to God.
The “touch” He had on Heather’s life, as her obituary describes it, was manifested in her daily walk, a passion for service and the sharing of her staunch belief in the Almighty.
“Always so bright and pleasant, forever willing to help and serve while giving many new souls to Christ,” noted Lia Cater Allen in an online tribute to Heather, who is described in her obituary as the devoted mother of a son, a faithful friend and sibling, and a gifted artist whose prayer sometimes came in the form of a song from a “beautiful” voice.
Maisen Porro recalled Heather’s generosity in an online tribute.
“I only met Heather once,” Porro remembered of their brief interaction in church, “and I showed her my sketch book. She was the one person who was so excited, so enthusiastic about my silly little doodles. Meeting someone like that just sticks with you.”
Allen addressed Heather in her obituary tribute.
“You will not,” she noted, “go unnoticed.”
Sources: Constantino Primo Funeral Home, The Sun, Legacy.com
