Her spirit watches over us in all things great and small: Mummy would have loved this. Mummy wouldn't have approved. Mummy would have been so proud. Remember when Mummy . . .
Impossible to believe she's been gone eleven years to the day. Our precious mother happened to depart this vale of tears on December 7, the anniversary of the day that would live in infamy in the nation's heart. In her family's heart Mary lives on, beckoning us all to be the best that we can be.
What is the measure of a woman's life? That she was beautiful and brilliant and beloved . . .
That every friend she ever made, from childhood on, has remained a friend forever . . .
That no one's sorrow escaped her notice or her tender concern . . .
That she was a loyal and loving wife . . .
That she was a devoted and proud and nurturing mother . . .
That she was a ridiculously indulgent and adoring grandmother . . .
That she loved music and art and literature and flowers and animals and bridge games and dear friends?
All of these things are a measure. But Mary's life was more than the sum of its parts. Her death has extinguished a most incandescent light.
The Measure of a Woman, tribute written by her daughter, Susan, for the memorial service held in Thanksgiving For The Life of Mary Loddy Jameson, December 19, 1993