Marsha Ann Morgan

Marsha Ann Morgan passed away on Thursday, May 11th in the early hours of the morning, surrounded by the love of her family who survive her: sons, Chuck, and Brian; sisters, Joyce, and Terri; grandkids, Chance, Michael (Stephanie), Lexi (David), and Kya (Skyler); great-granddaughter, Anna.

You kept asking for water. Neither you nor I could fathom why they wouldn't give an old woman in your

condition a cold drink, but only you had the nerve to ask. "If I'm going to die, I don't see why I can't have some water?" you asked sweetly, contradictory to your usual approach of barely masked irritation. This trait was endearing and funny... for a few hours...under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances, and your demeanor reflected that. You were calm, kind, just desperately thirsty, but the threat of aspiration during surgery was too high. Every threat was too high.

You liked a simple life—simply your way. Direct, blunt, unashamed of yourself. I aspire to be strong like that. You lived for your family, for God, for gardening. But before that, before time and tragedy took their toll on your youth, you liked dancing. You liked to cut jokes, even on the last day you spent with us on Earth.

"Do you understand,’ the doctors would ask, "what I just told you?" "Yes, but do you understand I'm so thirsty?" Huh "And why are you in the hospital today, Marsha?" "I believe I'm dying of thirst." If I had known then, I would have laughed.

There was no question, that day, what you would have wanted. You used to say, "If I ever get to where I can't take care of myself, throw me in a nursing home. Just visit." I think she had plans with her bar buddies from back in the day to turn the nursing home into a geriatric Members club. She said she didn't want to be a burden, but I think she just didn't want us to bear it. It wouldn't have mattered to us. Bore it, we would have, and joyously, if it meant we could have had more time with her. But she answered her father’s call, and did so with poise and peace, like talking to an old friend.

"I know I'm dying, and I'm not afraid, because I know..." And you did. Even in times when it seemed your mind had wandered home, you said what you needed to say. You told your loved ones you loved them. Your heart kept beating until those you held in it could tell you they loved you too. God's timing is perfect, after all. Though there are many things that you will miss, and many people left here to remember you, your life was full. Full of love, sunshine, laughter-- but full of pain, too. Pain that, at times, felt like too much for you to bear. But your strength was greater than you knew. You didn't crumble under pressure; you didn't quit anything-- not even smoking. You fought every battle with valor and bravery, even if you felt scared. I aspire to be strong like that, too. I know I certainly will need to be now. Every threat was too high. Your loved ones knew what you wanted when your time came-- to go quiet, peaceful, surrounded by love. The only right answer was to give you that in your last hours. The OR team told me, "We don't want her to say goodbye to us. She needs to say goodbye to you all." The decision was made.

"Then can | please get something to drink?" They got you a cup of water before they even wheeled you back to the room. Finally, you could relax and get a cool drink of water. Finally, your burdens could be laid down and your pain forgotten. Reunited with your mom and dad, your daughter, your sweetheart-- all those that lingered in your mind like ghosts in life, alive in Glory, welcoming you with open arms and wide smiles... welcoming you to your Heavenly home in eternity.

Honoring Marsha’s wishes her remains have been cremated.

Online condolences may be left at www.jamesfh.com

Arrangements have been entrusted to the care of Akers-James Funeral Home, Logan, WV.