Margaret Norman

She was smart, practical and funny, right up until a few days ago. Pretty independent too. She recently broke her wrist in a fall and that whole experience led to no darn good.

Margaret was born in the U.K., on a dairy farm in the Cotswolds where she developed an unhealthy love for rich cream right from the unpasteurized bucket. She often spoke of that guilty pleasure in a dreamy far off tone.

Life had its hardships. Her younger brother was killed right in front of her by a drunk driver. The terrible irony was that the family took a dim view of drinking even though they ran the local community pub from their farm.

She ran off to join the Women's Auxiliary Air Force when Churchill called. Worked in the motor pool. Changed oil and tires. Drove an ambulance during The Blitz. Took care of the runway and returning pilots whose planes and bodies were often shot up. Fell in love with a boy who didn’t make it home one night. She didn't like to talk about it much.

She was employed for a little while as a nanny/teacher/governess to a boy named Henry. He grew up to hold an important position with the Royal family. They never lost contact and she was mighty proud of him.

She came to Canada shortly after the war. The promise of a new start in a vast expanse was intoxicating. She worked for Bell as a phone operator. They liked her clipped British tones. She had to pass a physical, meaning her arm had to be long enough to work the old fashioned switchboard.

Eventually she settled in Chatham, Ontario. There was her husband Murdoch, who predeceased her by about 25 years. And three children Wayne, Darryl and Marilyn, the youngest.

In Chatham she worked as a security guard and at K-Mart in the sewing and notions department. She twice took Marilyn to the UK on a long trip to meet relatives and see the sights of the old country. Just the two of them.

She loved to knit and move. In 2008 she resettled in Toronto from Regina, to be closer to Marilyn. She switched up retirement residences 3 times after that, looking for the right fit. The wool and needles were never far away. Every winter she produced scarves, mittens and toques for those in need.

She loved animals too. Dogs and cats. Peter the tabby loved to ride on her walker. They had a routine that gave her so much joy. He has found a new home. And so has Margaret. She will be missed