Oh, Mary! A Tribute to Mary Moyer

Mary, seated in the first row on the left, Somerville, MA, July 2024

Oh, Mary! What a gift to celebrate your 94th birthday with love, nostalgia, and so much cake. We reveled in your vibrant presence on a humid summer afternoon as our Grub Street Memoir Incubator group reunited for the first time in ten years. We reminisced about sharing every Monday evening for an entire year in 2013/2014 under the wise instruction of Alex Marzano-Lesnivich. Although we hadn't seen each other in a decade, we know each other so profoundly that it felt as if no time had passed. We picked up right where we left off—trying to make sense of our complicated and beautiful lives. Weeks later, we were heartbroken to learn that you are no longer with us.

On that idyllic Saturday, we showered you with words—Fearless. Bold. Brave. Authentic. Compassionate. Spunky. Open-hearted. Pure Sunshine. Total Badass. We shared our favorite memories, and you graciously absorbed them. We recalled the unforgettable stories from your memoir, like the time you rescued Jolie from the van. We remembered how you took the T to class every week. Even then, you were our hero, an 84-year-old woman dedicated to writing your life story, living proof of "Show, Don't Tell." You lived life on your own terms—moving across the country, starting new jobs, standing up to bullies. We were shocked to learn of your passing, but it is also fitting that you left this world with so much grace.

Oh, Mary, I know you are smiling with us now. Your smile will stay with us forever. Thank you for letting us celebrate you. I'm sharing some sentiments from our adoring crew, who will forever cherish that gift of a summer Saturday with you. 

This is so bittersweet. Bitter in that Mary is gone, and she was, in so many ways, the soul of our group. Writing was, I believe, pure expression for her. It was also a way of ordering her experience—which was both hard and gentle. But then there’s the strange sweetness of all of us gathering in her honor just a few weeks ago. If that were in a story, it would be edited out. Too pat, too sugary. But no. It was one of those rare twists of fate in which everything lines up perfectly. All ten of us together for the first time in almost a decade, all there to celebrate Mary and to let her know—to tell her to her face!—how much she meant to each and every one of us. That's a one-in-a-million shot.

You know that old expression, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle"? During the time we spent together, we learned at least part of what everyone's battle was. So we know how to be kind to one another. And no one was kinder to us than Mary.

We get to hold onto our images of Mary—alert, engaged, and happy—from that afternoon. I was impressed by how she was able to take in what each of us had to say about her; she didn’t get flustered or feel the need to minimize our admiration.

I can't believe it. I need to move through my tears, but I am so grateful we all had the opportunity to be together with Mary for her birthday and to tell her how much we loved and admired her.

God, I adored her. Like you all, I'm so grateful for our day together. I'm also thankful that she went with her beauty and dignity intact and that this disease did not get to ravage her.

I think of Mary riding the T to Grub in her mid-80s, taking on a massive commitment with the Memoir Incubator, and continuing to challenge herself and grow intellectually at a time of life when so many other people have hunkered down. Mary kept herself vibrant and engaged, and she had so much to offer us with her stories and wisdom. I will really miss her.

It is untrue to say “there are no words” when someone we love dies. Our words are comforting in their truth and beauty. It is a gift to be in the company of writers and to mourn Mary with you all.

The day after the party, Mary asked her daughter Martha to re-read our writing exercises to her so she could savor each one. Mary fell ill about a week after her birthday party, and her health deteriorated quickly. After a stint at the hospital, she returned home with hospice care. Martha and a hospice nurse provided round-the-clock care. Her sons arrived to be with her. Mary Moyer died peacefully at home.

Mary will live on in our hearts forever. We donated to the Alzheimer’s Association (https://www.alz.org/) and encourage anyone to do the same in memory of the brilliant and kind Mary Moyer.