Her name was Molly—Aunty Molly to me, Mom to others, friend to many, and the cherished wife of one very lucky man my Uncle Harold. To all who knew her, she was a gentle, steady light in a world too often hurried and unkind.
Aunty Molly had a way about her—a warmth that wrapped around you like a favorite blanket, stitched together with kind words, thoughtful prayers. She didn’t just open her door to me—she opened her heart. Her home was a place where I didn’t visit often but I knew I was always welcome, always safe, and always fed in more ways than one.
I’ll always remember her steady presence in moments of chaos. Like the time I lost my passport right before a flight—she calmed the panic, found it in time, and got me where I needed to go. That was Molly: calm in the storm, love in action.
She prayed for all of us. She told us so, and more importantly, we felt it. In her presence, you always knew you were being held in someone’s thoughts, someone’s hopes. Her faith was not loud, but deep—woven into the very fabric of who she was.
That smile—so full of mischief and grace. That humor—always gentle, never mean. That heart—boundless and warm.
She has left this world, but she hasn’t left us. We carry her in our memories, in the stories we tell, in the way we try—imperfectly, but sincerely—to love the way she loved.
Aunty Molly, you will always be remembered, always cherished, and forever loved.
Randy Mesler
23/07/2025
