Martha Jane Engle 12/13/51 - 6/6/25

I’ve avoided writing this update - as it still doesn’t feel real. And I’ve spent all weekend trying to make sense of it and there just isn’t any sense to be made.

I knew things were getting close, as I thought we had a few days, but as I put my kids to bed on Thursday night I asked them what they’d want to do if I received a phone call that Aunt Moe was dying. “Do you want to be there with me and her or do you want to hold on to your last memories?” They both, separately, said they wanted to hold on to the memories.

Sometime in the middle of the night my daughter, 9, climbed into bed with me. She hasn’t done that in well over a year. It was unexpected, but I let it be. When I woke up I realized my phone never rang, so I planned to spend the day by my aunt’s bedside.

Then, after a long shower where I was questioning my choices for her care and wondering if I was making the right decisions and wanting to talk to her hospice nurse about it, I was sitting on the couch with my son, who had woken up early. Charlotte, my senior dog, jumped up between us (which is out of character for her, as she has to feel like she has enough space) and she sat ON me.

Then my phone rang.

It was her hospice nurse.

“I’m so sorry, Cate. She passed.”

At the last check her vitals were normal. And when they came in in the morning, she was gone. That’s why I never received a call.

A textbook introvert, she much preferred spending time alone. She’d come dressed for the party and when she’d had enough, she’d leave without saying, “goodbye.”

So, I guess her departure was in typical Moe fashion: slipping away before we were ready for her to go or even knew she was going to go.

On June 6th, 2025, Martha Jane Engle, 73, passed away from a very VERY short battle with cancer.

It was the same battle her 3 sisters lost, too.

I’m broken and devastated because, for the last almost 27 years, she helped fill the role of “mom” after I lost mine. Gift giving was her love language and she always had something for us for every little holiday; from something as small as Valentine’s Day to as big as Christmas. She made sure I had everything I needed for my kids’ birthday parties, made cupcakes, and never once did I have to buy clothes for them because she was always thinking sizes and seasons ahead. She would hold me when I’d cry over a broken heart and help me celebrate my biggest wins of my career.

She loved me and my children as if we were her own and I am so incredibly grateful for the time we got to spend with her. Just 6 weeks ago we were having normal conversations. She was as sharp as a nail as always. Witty and stubborn and confident everything was ok.

And today… she’s gone.

“Moe” (or “Momo, as we called her growing up) was born and raised in Overland Park, KS. Purple was, undeniably, her favorite color and pansies her favorite flower. She loved to cook, belt her favorite show tunes, read books and cooking blogs, share recipes and activities with people, take advantage of a good deal, and figure out as much as she could about whoever it was that she was going down a rabbit hole and researching. Her circle was incredibly small, but for those of us in it, we were her whole world. She made online friends with food bloggers, corrected social media posts for grammar mistakes and misspellings, and was so very proud of the time her choir group went to England and the time she surprised so many people (especially Director, Phil Kinen!) with her audition for “Fiddler on the Roof” at Theatre in the Park.

She was sharp and witty and funny - while also quiet, introverted, and a huge avoider of conflict. When there wasn’t conflict there was calm, and it was the calm moments in life that she seemed to appreciate the most. When you’d mention something you wanted to have or to do she always took a mental note and when she saw an article or a thing that matched what you said, she’d send it your way. She truly, genuinely cared so much about the people she loved.

Over the last few years in particular she focused on the positive things in life and the things she could control: a lesson she wished she learned earlier so she was often reminding me to do the same.

These last few days I’ve been replaying so many moments over in my head, wishing I could go back… wishing I could have been more present, said different things, or asked more questions. But going back isn’t an option. There were times I felt angry and I resented being her only person because I was “too busy” to give her the time she was asking for, but I did it anyways (and then complained later). In hindsight I don’t regret that time with her for one second because never in my life did she ask for anything until the very end, and when she did need help, she was so (surprisingly) receptive to it.

Which I suppose brings me to this: There is one thing we know for sure in life, and it’s that it is not forever. What we don’t know, and will never know, is when our time is going to come to an end. And sometimes, it happens so fast.

Make time for the ones you love. Tell them you love them. Be there when the need you. Ask for help when you need it.

… and if there is someone you think maybe you should make amends with but are too stubborn to do it first, let go of that stubbornness and pick up the phone and call them because it’s quite possible they feel the same way.

“I've heard it said
That people come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you
I have been changed
For good.”

XO
Cate