This was a hard Mother's Day to get through.
The force of nature that was my mother, Marjorie E. Sturdy, quietly slipped away to the next life in her sleep early in the morning of March 8, 2015. A very private person who valued her independence above all else, she had been moved to a lovely private foster home eight days earlier, as her condition had worsened enough that she couldn’t be left alone anymore. The women in her family all lived to ripe old ages and didn’t depart until they were good and ready. For her grandmother Wilson, the last straw was not being able to even see colors to match quilt blocks. For Mom, it was not being able to live on her own.
I wanted to take care of her when she grew older, but she would very rarely let me do anything. A true giver, she was always happiest doing things for others, one of those rare Christians who truly sought to follow Christ’s life of service with loving kindness. That wasn’t all there was to her, however. A complex, private woman, she didn’t show her deepest sides to very many outside her family.
She was my rock, my anchor, the very ground beneath my feet. When my imagination soared too high, she was the one who grabbed an ankle and brought me back to earth. I am so lucky that she was my mother.
The world has lost a great lady.