Corinne “Coe” Dall’Armi Bellaart

Coe exemplified living life to its fullest. She wore bright colors, laughed loudly, talked to strangers as though they were old friends, and was unapologetically herself from beginning to end.

She loved all the little pleasures that came with being alive: a warm pastry, a long drive, coffee in bed, a lively conversation on the phone with a friend, a colorful outfit, or a beautiful arrangement of flowers. She had a remarkable ability to turn these ordinary things into something special simply by enjoying them so completely.

Coe was an excellent cook and an enjoyer of food, although it would be nearly impossible to name her signature dish because she was amazing at far too many.

Coe loved people wholeheartedly and never did anything halfway. If someone mentioned a particular loaf of bread they enjoyed, she might drive an hour out of her way just to get it for them. She called these spontaneous adventures her “commando runs,” which could mean driving from Pismo Beach to Santa Barbara and straight back again, all to deliver a gift, a favorite treat, or a much-needed hug on a bad day.

She was a loving mother, and she and her son, Dan, stayed extraordinarily close throughout their lives. Her family was at the center of her life, and in the last days of hers, they were together celebrating her 76th birthday.

Those final days were healthy, happy, and full of the people and food that she loved. At one point, she was overheard talking on the phone with a friend, telling them that it had been some of the best days of her life. Coe passed unexpectedly but peacefully in her sleep on September 16th.

She left this world in a fabulous set of purple pajamas: comfortable, colorful, and entirely herself. There was no ceremony to it, no formality or fuss, just quintessential Coe.

If you knew Coe, you know there is no single story that could possibly contain her. You probably have your own: a dinner, a phone call, a commando run, a laugh you can still hear.

And if you didn’t know her, we hope you will picture her anyway. Maybe she’s driving down the coast with a Joni Mitchell song playing, her ring-adorned hands resting on the wheel, and a bunch of peonies tucked into the passenger seat.

Maybe she’s at the dinner table, laughing so loudly that everyone else starts laughing too. Maybe she’s telling the joke, turning to the side, one hand raised, whispering the punchline as if it were a secret.

Coe was one of a kind, and the world was very lucky to have her. She will be profoundly missed.

A celebration of Coe’s life is being planned and details will follow.