Margaret Storey

What can be said about Margaret Ann Storey? Ask anyone who knows her and the first thing that comes to mind is "she is a fighter." Born to John and Virginia Lynch on Friday, November 13, 1942 in Providence, Rhode Island, she came into this world fighting. I can't count how often she would tell us that she was born breach and should have suffocated and died then. Instead she fought and continued fighting. She grew to raise three wonderful children: Christina Rosas, William Merbach, and Denise Geer. The fight didn't stop there. After losing her first husband she went on to find love again with William Storey. Never one to live in a fairytale, there were ups and downs throughout their 29 years of marriage but at the end of the day, no matter what, they both still loved each other very much. The middle of eight children, she was well versed in the ways of siblings and sibling rivalries. Wisdom, whether wanted or not, which she never hesitated to impart upon her ten grandchildren. Even for those who lived 3000 miles away she was a constant source of love, warmth, strength, and wisdom.

The hardest fight of her life began October 2014. Our dear Margaret was diagnosed with Stage- 4 lung cancer. The doctors told her she had three months left. She fought everyday surrounded by the love of her husband, her three children, her ten grandchildren, and her furbaby Bambi. Unfortunately, even the strongest of fighters cannot go undefeated indefinitely. On the morning of April 27, 2015 the Good Lord called Margaret home. He needed His angel to fight elsewhere and He trusted that she nurtured each and every one of us to be strong enough to fight without her. Take care of our angel dear Lord.

Because I could not stop for Death -

He kindly stopped for me -

The Carriage held but just Ourselves -

And Immortality.

We slowly drove - He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility -

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess - in the Ring -

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -

We passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - He passed Us -

The Dews drew quivering and Chill -

For only Gossamer, my Gown -

My Tippet - only Tulle -

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground -

The Roof was scarcely visible -

The Cornice - in the Ground -

Since then - 'tis Centuries - and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity -

-E. Dickenson