Janet Lynn Morgan

If you were fortunate enough to call her a friend, or if you were blessed to be part of her family, you already know what her true superpower was: it was her capacity for unconditional love and support. As her son, I can stand before you today and say that my entire life has been wrapped in that warmth. It was a love that asked for nothing in return, yet gave everything it had.

When I think about my mother’s life, the image that constantly comes to mind is knitting. Knitting was not just a passionate hobby of hers; it was the very metaphor by which she lived. A sweater is just a collection of loose, disparate strands. But in Lynn’s hands, those separate threads were woven together with patience, care, and intention, turning into a connected fabric of purpose and beauty. She did the same with human lives—bringing people together, stitching together connections that withstood the tests of time and distance, and creating a community of warmth around her.

Lynn’s journey began in Lovington, New Mexico, where she grew up and married her high school sweetheart. They eventually relocated to Lubbock, Texas, so my father could attend college, and that is where I was born. Over the years, our family moved around the country quite a bit as my father followed his career goals—living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania; Benton Harbor, Michigan; Overland Park, Kansas; and South Bend, Indiana.

But life took a challenging turn for her when my parents divorced. I was only 11 years old, and my brother was just 3. Lynn packed up our lives and moved us back to Lubbock, where her parents were living at the time.

The late 1970s was an incredibly challenging time to be a single woman. It is hard for us to imagine today, but back then, she actually needed her father to co-sign just so she could open a bank account. Job opportunities for women were low paying and hard to come by. But my mother was fiercely independent. Faced with the daunting task of providing for her two young sons, she didn't hesitate. She immediately enrolled in beauty school to develop marketable skills. Soon after, she landed a job as a dental assistant. Dr. Brown gave her an opportunity, and under his wing, she didn't just survive; she flourished. Through hard work and dedication, she eventually became the office coordinator and accountant for his practice. She was always striving to grow, and in her 50s, she went to college and earned her degree in Accounting—a testament to her lifelong resolve and belief that it is never too late to reinvent yourself.

In 2002, my child was born, making Lynn a grandmother. By 2005, she made a choice that I still consider incredibly bold: at sixty years old, without a job lined up, she relocated to Washington just to be near her grandchild. Her desire to be with family was simply stronger than any fear of the unknown.

Her talent and work ethic made sure she didn't stay unemployed for long. She quickly secured a position as a high-level accountant for DaVita, a national dialysis company. She excelled so deeply and became such a crucial team member that when she had to move to Fort Worth, Texas, to care for her failing mother, DaVita refused to let her quit. Instead, they broke their own rules and changed the company policy so she could work remotely.

Her move to Fort Worth highlighted two of her most defining traits: dedication and selflessness. For ten long years, Lynn committed herself to caring for her mother, Doris Morgan. Doris could be difficult and demanding, but Lynn supported her faithfully until her passing. She sacrificed her own personal goals and desires to honor her mother, and she did it all without complaint (mostly).

But that was just who Lynn was. She cared for everyone in her orbit with that same depth. She was a keeper of connections, maintaining close ties with her high school friends, her former coworkers, and a massive network of friends she had known and cherished for decades.

After Doris passed, my mother looked to establish a life for herself. She told me how much she had enjoyed living in the Pacific Northwest and asked what I thought about her moving back to the area. I wanted to help her, just as she had so selflessly helped her mother, and told her I would love to have her closer. She packed up and relocated again at the age of 75.

I am immensely grateful for that decision, because less than two years after her move, she was diagnosed with ALS. Because she was close, I was able to stand by her side and help her as her health declined, returning a small fraction of the care she had spent her life giving to others.

Even as her physical independence was challenged, her spirit remained fiercely independent. After remarrying three times after her divorce to men who were, in my opinion, unworthy of her love, she had committed to being strong on her own terms. It was incredibly difficult for her to move into an assisted living facility. But true to form, she didn't let that faze her. Instead of retreating, she leaped into her new community.

She met friends through existing knitting groups and then organized her own knitting groups that met regularly at the facility. When she noticed new tenants struggling with unanswered questions about how the facility worked, she took action. She gathered their questions and worked with the administration to get them answered. When the administration refused to formalize these questions and answers to share with the residents, Lynn printed them out herself and handed them to the facility ambassadors to distribute to new tenants.

And she never stopped caring for the vulnerable. When another resident with advanced ALS was struggling, Lynn sat with a group of women who helped her eat, getting food for her and helping cut her food. When the facility wanted to restrict this woman to her room, Lynn refused to accept it. She advocated fiercely for her, believing it was vital for her to continue having a social life. The staff agreed to allow her to continue coming to the cafeteria. Once this woman eventually became bedridden, Lynn visited her regularly until her passing.

That was Janet Lynn Morgan. She was a woman who took the difficult, frayed edges of life and knitted them into something secure, warm, and beautiful. She showed us that independence does not mean standing alone; it means having the strength to stand up for others.

Mom, you have finished your work here. The blanket of love you knitted for us is complete, and it is wrapped tightly around all of us today. We love you, we thank you, and we will carry your warmth with us forever. Rest in peace.