Marsha Sue Binion

On November 8, 2024, around 12:30 pm, in Charlotte, North Carolina, the world lost an unremarkable woman. But I lost one of the most remarkable people in my life. I lost my first friend, my first teacher, and my first champion. I lost my mom.

She wasn't a dragon hunter, and she never walked on the moon. I'm not sure she ever ate in a five-star restaurant, and she wasn't a movie star. Her life was plain, simple, and uneventful unless you count the time she stood up to my dad with a knife or the time she kept us safe when we spent the night in a car because we had no other place to go. There were also all the times life knocked her down, but she got up to keep going.

I sat next to her bed in the hospital, wondering if I had done enough for her. She wasn't suffering and had no idea what was happening. I worried about the last conversation I had with her. It was an argument over the election, and I felt very alone. Afterward, people told me it was good that I was with her, but I’ll never know for sure. I thought a lot about my role as a daughter had come full circle. She guided me into the world, and now I was guiding her out of it.

If you knew my mom, you knew how much she loved to laugh. She once told me that laughter was the one thing people couldn't argue about. She loved silly jokes and pranks. One time, in high school, she and her best friend painted a sign on the outside of a teacher's garage door. The sign claimed to have free eggs and to inquire within. The teacher never noticed and was flustered over his newfound popularity among egg lovers. I had that same teacher years later in high school, and he couldn't believe I was my mother's child.

Every October, my mother posted a daily joke on her Facebook page, such as, "What's a Vampire's favorite kind of dog? A Bloodhound." She did this for so many years that people expected it.

As an adult child, I had several hard conversations with her about her choices. There are some I will never understand, but I'm blessed that she showed incredible courage to make herself vulnerable. She often said, "This is me." My mom was beautifully flawed, held together by kintsugi life lessons. Life gave her many broken pieces, and she always put them back together with gold paint. She taught me that the only way to be defeated was to quit.

My mom loved her family and worked hard to educate herself on issues that were important to them. She absolutely would let me know if she questioned my choices and decisions regarding my children, career, and personal life. But she made it a point to listen and learn why I made my choices. There were times we "agreed to disagree," but she never stopped loving her family and would never let us forget that love was all we ever needed.

She had a feisty streak that most people didn't know about. We often joked that she would take you off the Christmas card list if she got mad at you. I'm happy to report that every time I was kicked off the list, I finagled my way back on it. Let's just say chocolate worked miracles.

My mom introduced me to fantasy and science fiction. We went every Friday night for months when Star Wars first appeared in the theater. Once, I sat next to a woman who had not seen it yet and told her everything before it happened. My mom was embarrassed, but the sweet lady only remarked on how wonderful it was that I remembered so many details. My mom read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and so many other books to me. She loved good stories, and that love of storytelling has served me well.

My mom loved her grandchildren and was always proud of everything they did and accomplished. I asked them what they wanted to share. The oldest wanted everyone to know that Grandma was the loudest voice in a crowd of applause. My youngest wanted everyone to know about all the spaghetti and salad dinners she made with Grandma and how special that time together was.

Some other interesting facts about my mom. She was born in Seattle, preferred Pepsi over Coke, and her favorite candy bar was Three Musketeers. Her nickname in high school was

Sparks, and to this day, I do not know why. She wasn't a fan of TikTok until I introduced her to thirst traps. She had a wild crush on Sean Connery and was a Red Hatter.

Lastly, she would want everyone to know that she lived longer than all her three brothers.

She is survived by all her friends and family. At this time, there are no services planned, and her ashes will remain with the family as long as the urn matches our decor.

P.S. What do you call an alligator in a vest? An investigator.