Nancy Fortuine Westervelt

Winslow - Nancy Ellen Fortuine Westervelt, 84, of Winslow, died peacefully at home March 1, 2017 (Ash Wednesday), surrounded by loving family. She was known for her love of family and her close friendships. As many learned, there was always another place in the home she kept and at the table she set. She was renowned as an artist in the kitchen and loved music, her garden, and her cats. She will be forever remembered for her gentleness, generosity, kindness, and extraordinary faith in God.

Nancy was born in Cambridge, New York, on February 15, 1933 to Dr. Stanley and Susan McGraw Fortuine. The family moved to Ogunquit, Maine, in 1935 where she spent her childhood. She graduated from Colby College, in Waterville, Maine, where she was an award-winning poet, with a degree in English in 1954. She met her husband, Peter Westervelt, while working at the Lamont and Widener Libraries at Harvard University, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he was completing his undergraduate studies. They were married April 2, 1956 at St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, while Peter was a Fulbright scholar at Leiden University in Holland. They subsequently lived in Cambridge, while Peter attended graduate school, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, before moving to Waterville, Maine in 1961, when Peter began a long career on the faculty at Colby College. In addition to raising her family, Nancy worked part time as a writer and editor in the Colby College Alumni and Publications offices. Peter and Nancy were surrogate parents to many, including several Colby students who lived with them over the years together with their seven children, and Peter’s Aunt Harriet, in the big house on Winter Street. She sang on stage in Gilbert and Sullivan productions at the Waterville Opera House, in the choirs at St. Mark’s, Sacred Heart, and Saint Francis de Sales Churches, and the Colby Community Chorus. Her family were congregants of Saint Frances de Sales, where she was a Eucharistic minister for two decades. She served on the board at Seton Village, and the Meadowview Condo Association in Winslow, where she lived from 2007 until her death.

She was predeceased by her husband Dr. Peter Westervelt (2001), after forty-five years of marriage, son Nathan Lord Westervelt (1983), grandson Seth Bizier (1989) and granddaughter, Ella Mariah Schrader Westervelt (2013). She was also predeceased by brothers Edward and Robert Fortuine, and sisters Barbara Bickford and Patricia Freeman. She is survived by sons Dr. Peter Westervelt and his wife Donna (St. Louis, Missouri), Dr. Benjamin Westervelt and his wife Carol Schrader (Portland, Oregon), and Owen Westervelt and his wife PJ (San Juan Capistrano, California), daughters Catherine Westervelt (Winslow, Maine), Sarah Bizier and her husband Paul (Vassalboro, Maine), and Dr. Hilda Westervelt and her partner Phil Copeland (Oregon City, Oregon), grandchildren Daniel Bizier and his wife Megan, Lizzie and her husband Nick Thibodeau, Anna and Katie Westervelt, and Samuel McGraw Westervelt Schrader, and great-grandchild, Lily Grace Thibodeau. She is also survived by many nieces, nephews, cousins, and countless other dear friends.

A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at 11:00 am on Saturday April 22, 2017 at Notre Dame Catholic Church, 112 Silver Street, Waterville. Burial will be private in Surry, ME. Please visit www.veilleuxfuneralhome.com to view a video collage of Nancy’s life and to share condolences, memories and tributes with her family.

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The following eulogy was presented by Peter Westervelt at his Mother's funeral on Saturday April 22, 2017 at Notre Dame Catholic Church:

Our mother took to heart a notion attributed to Ghandi, that while most of us may not be able to change the whole world, we nonetheless have the power to do immense collective good by focusing our energies on improving the lot of those close at hand. And she indeed touched the lives of many throughout the course of her life. Not just those of our family, for whom she was our bedrock, but also the legion of those lucky enough to be numbered among her friends, from the Colby community, to her neighbors, and the parishioners of her church; to the clerk in the grocery store, her caregivers, and on and on. My mother treated everyone with respect and compassion, and was loved by all in return.

She was kind, good-hearted, humble and generous, stoic and devout in her faith in God to the end. She was bestowed with many blessings over her life, but was also beset at times with terrible loss, and, toward the end of her life, with increasing physical frailty, despite which she clung to her faith, and even her sense of humor in the face of adversity.

Near the end, as her body was failing her, she chose to go out on her own terms, and as she put it to one of her doctors, “I’m ready to meet my husband…” As she lay dying peacefully at home, ministered to by my sisters Katie and Sarah, drifting in and out, I’m told at one point she suddenly aroused, sat up and said with some irritation “What’s taking so long??” And when pressed for details, replied “This dying thing… let’s get on with it!!!”

Many of the countless memories of my mother that I hold most dear come from growing up in a rambling gray house on Winter St, part of the big and loving family that she regarded as her Magnum Opus, a family into which many others were welcomed and embraced over the years. Memories as simple as the aroma of baking bread emanating from her magical kitchen, the click of her knitting needles as she sat up reading with our father at the end of a long day, her singing over a simmering stovetop. More recently, as she adopted the Red Sox late in life, phone conversations beginning along the lines of ”How about Big Papi??”

While I could go on and on sharing these, I’m sure that each of us has their own special memories of our mother and what she meant to you. We’d like to invite each you to join us in sharing and reliving those memories after the service at an informal light lunch gathering after the ceremony.

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The following was written by Nancy's daughter, Sarah Bizier, and read at Nancy's graveside by Nancy's son Benjamin Westervelt:

On Apr 1, 2017 10:32 PM, "Sarah Bizier" wrote:

Mama

Gentle, gentle were her hands

Though they did the work of the world

Loving stroking, tender hands

Pat, pat, patting, comforting love

Blue like iris, were her eyes

Blue with joy, blue with tears

A lifetime of happiness and grief

Reflecting back in a loving gaze

Tired and broken was her body

Once strong, determined and carefree

Once a child who loved to swim, who loved to run

A bride who loved to meander

Warm and genuine was her smile, it always reached her eyes

Her laughter was like bells

Her humor always present and on point

Her wit sharp and subtle

Elegant were her ways

She carried herself like a queen

Dressed for every outing

Regal til the end

Grace defined her every move

Her home, her table set

Her presence in a room

Grace personified

Faith emanated from her

It was her cornerstone

She believed and she was unafraid

At peace and ready to meet her God

Written by: Sarah Bizier

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The following song was sung by Nancy's daughter-in-law, Donna Westervelt, at Nancy's graveside:

How can I keep from singing?

My life flows on in endless song;

Above earth's lamentation,

I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn

That hails a new creation

I hear that music ringing

It finds an echo in my soul

How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die?

I know my Savior liveth

What though the darkness gather round?

Songs in the night he giveth

No storm can shake my inmost calm

While to that refuge clinging

Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth

How can I keep from singing?

I lift my eyes, the cloud grows thin

I see the blue above it

And day by day this pathway smooths,

Since first I learned to love it,

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart

A fountain ever springing

For all things are mine since I am his

How can I keep from singing?

No storm can shake my inmost calm

While to that refuge clinging

Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth

How can I keep from singing?

Robert Wadsworth Lowry