Florence E. Marx

Most people knew her as Florence—an amazing woman of grace and poise—and she absolutely was. She carried herself with a quiet elegance that made you feel calm just being near her. But to us, from the very beginning, she was Grandma Flo. I was only eight years old when she and my mom first met, and none of us had any idea then how profoundly that moment would shape all of our lives. That chance meeting blossomed into one of the most beautiful and lasting relationships I’ve ever witnessed.

They became fast friends, the kind of friends who could sit over breakfast and lose track of time completely. They talked about everything and nothing all at once—laughing, confiding, dreaming. They supported each other through life’s highs and lows, and it didn’t take long for their friendship to grow into something deeper, something more like family. They filled a space in each other’s lives that neither of them had even fully realized was missing.

My mom lost her own mother to cancer at a very young age, and in Grandma Flo, she found the loving, steady, nurturing presence her heart had been missing. At the same time, Grandma Flo—who had longed for a family of her own—was welcomed into ours with open arms. She didn’t just become a friend or a support system; she became a true mother to my mom. And in doing so, she became a grandmother to us, a great-grandmother to our children, and even a great-great-grandmother in the past year. Her family may not have started conventionally, but it grew with love.

In the most genuine and meaningful way, she is the only grandmother I have ever known on my mother’s side. And what a grandmother she was. She was there for everything—every wedding, every birthday, every graduation and milestone. She celebrated each of our life events with us. When a new baby was born, she showed up. When we had school recitals, plays, or sports games, she was in the audience, smiling with pride. Her presence was steady, her support unwavering even when we made mistakes.

Even as the years went on and travel became harder, she still made every effort to be part of our lives. I will never forget when she and Mom made the trip to Missouri just so she could watch our daughter Grace dance in her ballet recital. That’s who she was—never missing a moment if she could help it, showing up with love in her heart and pride in her eyes.

She wasn’t just present in the big events; she was woven into the fabric of our everyday lives. Her love was the quiet, faithful kind—the kind that doesn’t ask for recognition but leaves a lasting mark. We were beyond blessed to call her ours.

One of the most beautiful things about Grandma Flo was her unwavering faith in God. It shaped the way she lived, the way she loved, and the quiet strength she carried through every season of life. She didn’t just talk about her faith—she lived it, daily, through her kindness, her patience, and the way she served her church and loved others so well. Her Bible was well-worn, her prayers were faithful, and her heart was full of trust in the Lord. Her faith was her anchor, and it gave her a joy and peace that radiated to everyone around her. Even now, we take great comfort knowing she is with her Savior.

At the age of 99 she lived a full and amazing life. Though her passing leaves the biggest hole in our hearts, we rejoice with her that she has joined her parents, siblings, and friends that have gone before her in heaven and by the grace of God, she is no longer in pain. In her own words: “I know you will miss me, but the Lord is calling and I must go.” You will live in our hearts forever Grandma Flo.