Michelle Marie Barthule

Michelle Marie Barthule passed away March 12, 2018, surrounded by family at her home in Olympia, Washington, after a 15-year fight with breast cancer. She was born July 16, 1955, to Jerry L. Culleton and Elaine F. (Jellesma) Culleton in Salt Lake City, Utah. Michele graduated from Timberline High School in Lacey, Washington, South Puget Sound Community College in Olympia, and Saint Martin’s University in Lacey, Washington, where she became a Registered Nurse. She worked for the Grays Harbor Heath Department, the Thurston County Health Department, the State of Washington, and Providence Saint Peter Hospital in Olympia. Michelle was a kind, loving, and nurturing woman who was fiercely independent with a great sense of humor. She loved horseback riding, gardening and planting flowers, traveling, chai tea lattes, and spending time with her kids, family, friends and beloved pets. She also was an avid Seahawks fan. Michelle was predeceased by her parents, Jerry and Elaine Culleton; and sister, Collette Mathews. She is survived by her three sons, Wayne Robert Barthule and his wife Karen of Bothell, Washington, Tyler James Barthule of Olympia, and Kenneth George Barthule of Everett, Washington; her daughter, Becky Marie Japhet and partner Greg Baldwin; her two brothers, Mike and his wife Linda Culleton of Sammamish, Washington, and Thomas Culleton of Olympia; and her sister, Deborah Schuler and her partner John Stedman of Lynden, Washington. Michelle also is survived by grandchildren, Jordan Likkel and Katlyn Japhet; and great-grandchild, Grace Ann Kjelland. READING: You can shed tears that she is gone or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left. Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember her and only that she’s gone or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back or you can do what she’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on. The pain is colossal and at times overwhelming. But I’d rather feel this pain than feel nothing. This pain means that I loved and was loved. I am fortunate to have had her at all. Please leave memories of Michelle or condolences for her family in the Guestbook below.