Obituary of Costica Cosarca

Costica Cosarca was born in Romania, in the city of Satu-Mare on February 7, 1947. After a massively debilitating stroke and long, brave fight to regain his physical strength, Costi passed away in the early hours of Sunday, July 11, 2021 in Daytona Beach, FL with his daughter, Veronica, by his side. Costi is survived by four adult children, four grandsons, sixteen nieces and nephews, and sixteen grand-nieces-and-nephews. He is also survived three of his sisters and numerous first-and-second cousins throughout the US and Romania. He’s preceded in death by his older brother, Augustin Cosarca, his mother, Elisabeta Cosarca, his younger brother, Mirion Cosarca and his father, Mihai Cosarca. All of us, his family in the US, credit Costi with giving us a chance at a better and brighter future in America. Costi grew up in Romania, under the Iron Curtain of communism and the yoke of the USSR Empire. This would influence his entire life trajectory and form his dream of becoming an American and living out the American Dream. Costi served in the Romanian Army for three years after graduating secondary school. After discharge, he made the perilous decision to run away from the Romanian state and find his way to freedom or die trying. He managed to cross over five countries, all under USSR rule and finally made to West Germany, where he gleefully turned himself over to NATO forces and pled asylum. He then joined the NATO Army, based in Germany and served for four years in support of the Berlin Brigade, 6th Infantry Division, 42nd Engineer Company, where he learned how to work on diesel engines in small military vehicles. After his service, he was given a Green Card to the US and arrived in New York City in 1977. He founded a European car repair shop, specializing in Volvos and Mercedes, one of the very few in business at this time. Fun fact: he met his future wife thru one of his clients. He was married in 1979 to Maria Niculescu, settled in Brooklyn, NY and raised a family of four children. He fought long and hard with American immigration officials at the Downtown Manhattan Federal Courthouse to secure visas for his family members trapped in Romania. He slowly succeeded in bringing over his and Maria’s family members from Romania over the years. Once they arrived in America, he secured housing, cars, jobs and most importantly, legal representation and immigration sponsorships so they too, can live out the American Dream. We are all here today because of one man who decided he’d find freedom or die trying. After his children reached adulthood, Costi parted ways with Maria and relocated to Daytona Beach, FL. He lived across the street from the beach and loved to ride his bikes, swim in the ocean and attend NASCAR races at the Daytona Speedway. He moved into one of the most “American” towns in the country and earn the moniker “beach bum”. Costi had also earned quite the enviable deep bronzed tan, year-round as a Floridian retiree. He would visit NY for the holidays and spend summers in Livingstonville fixing up his country home for his grandkids and grand-nieces-and-nephews’ visits. His favorite role in life was that of a grandpa and one of his regrets was living so far from his grandsons. His second favorite role in life was that of Uncle Costi, and spending time giving political and life advice and telling zany stories to his extended family when visiting. Costi loved being an American and was a proud Republican, who loved President Trump, revered President Regan and much to his daughters’ delight, respected President Obama. He was deeply proud of his son, who become a Marine and deployed numerous times to Iraq and Afghanistan. He was delighted that all three of his daughters had sons, who would “definitely play soccer when they got older, not American football and have to wear ridiculous helmets and look like giant cosmonauts.” – Costi Cosarca. I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world below There is no sickness, no toil, nor danger In that bright land to which I go I'm going there to see my Mother She said she'd meet me when I come So, I'm just going over Jordan I'm just going over home ~Wayfaring Stranger, Johnny Cash (2000)