Norah Sandford (nee Wright) STONE

Norah Sandford Stone (nee Wright)

January 28, 1925 – July 7, 2013

Died peacefully at home with her family, Survived by loving husband of 63 years, Mack; Children Paul (Julie), Maureen (Gord), Megan (Brad); Grandchildren Christopher (Morgan), Jeremy (Melissa), Ryley, Brynn, Anna; Great grandchild Marcus; Other dear family, Bill and Mary, Ted, Andrea, Shannon, and their families; And a plethora of good friends!

Norah:

A woman of exceptional grace with a quiet but sharp sense of humour;

She had a passion for the written word – reading and writing;

And for bridge (even winning at her evening club 3 days before her death);

A loving and proud mother, grandmother and great grandmother;

And she loved dogs, especially her dear Tess.

Decades before it was trendy, in 1951, Norah and Mack sold everything they had and took a slow boat to the UK and Europe for a 4 month trip. We never tired of hearing their story of arriving back in Vancouver with $5 to their name and not a single regret.

Norah’s spirit for adventure continued to serve her (and Mack) well over the years as they moved back and forth across the country, and gave up corporate security to buy and run their own business.

Norah cherished her many delightful and fond friendships, including those she met through bridge, Spindrift Writers, Qualicum Hearts in Motion Walkers (and the coffee after!), tennis, badminton and her years volunteering at SOS in Parksville, and those she had known from early childhood!

She was an ardent fan of all sports (especially her Canucks), and delighted in seeing Andy Murray win at Wimbledon just hours before she passed.

Special thanks to Dr. Paddy Mark for her exceptional care and friendship.

In Lieu of flowers, a donation to the SPCA or

any animal-based charity is most appreciated.

A wake will be held to celebrate Norah’s amazing life

Sunday August 25, 2-5pm at Mack and Norah’s home

A few of Norah’s favourite quotes……

“Be yourself.  Everyone else is taken.”  (O. Wilde)

“The only thing worse than being talked about, is not being talked about.” (O. Wilde)

And the clipping that fell from her address book the day after she died:

“May you be half an hour in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead!”


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