My dear Auntie Marg died on Friday. She was a second mom to me when I was very young, presiding over the stable home we moved into while my own mother struggled to work and care for us as a single parent in an adopted country. It was a time of turbulence and loss and uncertainty for me, when Marg's warm kitchen was an island of safety. Not surprisingly, she became a loving friend to my mother when she most needed it, and her family and ours grew up as close as any blood relations.

You could count on Marg for calm acceptance of whatever life dished out to her, even though there was plenty to get exasperated about. She was quick to laugh, most often at the antics of her beloved life partner, Ken. Always ready with a tender word for any child, she loved family gatherings and never failed to show up to picnics and parties with her fantastic butter tarts.