Suzanne Geneva Wheatley

Let me tell you a story about a woman who was so loved. It isn't a tall tale, but it isn't a

short one either.

Suzanne Geneva Wheatley was born on June 14th of 1949. She came into this world at

1:45 am on a stormy and record-breaking rainy day in Chicago. I like to think she

brought the rain with her, for Suzy loved the living green of life, the beautiful petals of

hope, which can only be nurtured by a good, soaking rain. And so, she brought the rain

to prepare a garden in her new world. If this sounds rather magical, well dear reader,

you'd be right.

My mom was a magic-maker you see. She had the ability to bring peace and comfort.

To romance the ordinary. To live a life of simple abundance. When you grow up, as she

did, without luxuries and plenty, you learn how to create richness around you. She filled

her life with music, with plants, and with animals, like her childhood cat, Toni. And

stories, so many stories.

Mom could take rather ordinary days and make them so cozy. Long before they were

buzzwords and reels, mom taught us self-care and living a hygge life. A stick of incense

lit, the smoke curling gently up, the lighting dimmed and calming, a favorite movie

playing. The humid steam of the tub being filled with hot water and sweet-smelling

bubbles. A dog-eared book on the side table. Our home, filled with mom's well-tended

plants, a private botanical garden just for us. Why don't you get comfy and throw on a

pair of your warmest jammies? Go get your teddy bear to hold tight to your chest. How

about a cup of tea? Perhaps a slice of buttered toast?

Did you know that we were an extremely well-traveled family? We went positively

everywhere! To the rooftops of London. Through the wardrobe to Narnia. We huddled

together in a snowy landscape at nightfall to see the tomten scurry toward the forest in

his pointed red hat. We went to Australia and lived on a dry and dusty sheep station

named Drogheda in the 1930s. We danced between the words of famous poets. We

hopped alongside Peter Rabbit through the fields of the English countryside. We sat at

a table laid with a feast in India. Our world was wide and borderless. Infinite, really. Our

magic-maker of a mother inspired within us the love of books. She showed us how to

dive between the pages and live thousands of lives. To understand and respect various

perspectives. How to slay the dragons and, mostly, how to become humans of

goodness.

These, my friends, are our riches and mere glimpses of the magic that my mom, my

Suzy, endowed us with. We were so very lucky.

With the breath of snow in the air, on November 27th, 1969, my mom and dad were

married. And so began Camelot. An elegant, wise, strong, goddess of a beauty with

flowing, brown hair and the cutest, brilliant, bespectacled, (self-admitted) nerd of a man

started their life together on this day. Their song, the theme from the musical Camelot.

Their dream, to start a family.

And so, Suzanne and Richard...Suzy and Rudy created something pretty wonderful.

Two children, Kimberly and Richard, were born in the early years of their marriage. A

family of four, living the dreamy sepia-toned life of the '70s. Several years later, a

surprise to usher in the 1980s, a second daughter, Jennifer was born. And so, the

Wheatley family was complete. The five of us, a unit. There was so much love. So much

laughing. Music. Dancing. Snacks, so many snacks. Did I mention laughing? Our house

shook with it daily. A loud and silly dancing father, always with a story to tell. A quietly

loving mother, working in the background to create and sculpt the magic we took for

granted as children. Doesn't everyone have this?

Our family, like my mother's, grew up with just enough in the bank to skim the surface of

security. Oh, but you wouldn't know it by looking. Our homes were always dressed

beautifully for the seasons. Preciously tended pre-war glass ornaments placed ever so

lovingly on our Christmas trees. Balsam incense burning. The Nutcracker Suite playing.

The vibrantly wrapped presents, so many, as if we were soaring instead of merely

skimming. My mom would spend all year finding a little something here, a little

something there and tuck it away like a benevolent squirrel to ensure, come Christmas

morning, the Wheatley children would awake to the wonder and magic she loved

watching on her favorite holiday movies. She would go without to be darn sure we

would have so much more.

The earth, spinning as it does, aged. The calendar pages flipped. The years kept piling

on. My magic-maker began to change. Oh, just a little at first. But all too soon, it

seemed, Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. A thief, a terrible trickster of a disease.

It keeps your loved one with you but steals pieces of her by inches.

Always the magic-maker, even when we couldn't see all of you, you would gift us

something: your beautiful smile, your twinkling eyes, and oh, your precious laugh.

You've taught us to be strong, but also how to take care of ourselves on the days when

we just can't. The gift of your magic will live on forever.

Suzanne Geneva Wheatley died on the morning of November 5th, 2026. The day was

overcast, chilly, and drizzly. Orange, gold, and scarlet leaves swirling on the wind. It

sounds like a rather sad type of weather, but Mom would have loved it. What better day

to settle in and take a rest? After living with this disease for ten years, she was ready.

But she made that thief work hard first. Then, she opened her eyes wide, seeing her

freedom ahead, and ran for it. Like the strong, brave goddess she always was, she

faced her new life head on.

Mom, we will grieve you, always. But now you are whole again, yourself once more.

Your beautiful long hair swinging as you walk among the plants and flowers which

you've nurtured. Rudy, waiting with his arms open to hold you again, bushy eyebrows

raised in merriment, smiles his big, goofy smile, and says, "There she is, my Suzy." The

two of you, now reunited and celebrating with lobster and steak for the anniversaries

you've missed these last few years. Together. And so, Camelot continues.

Suzanne is survived by her children: Kimberly Wheatley, Richard Wheatley, and

Jennifer (Jeni Dalke) Wheatley; grandchildren: Onix Wheatley, Elizabeth (Lev)

Wheatley, and Sebastian (Vi) Wheatley.

Through these last few years, Mom's world has gotten smaller. But she had constants in

her life. Her sister, Loretta Walker, was one such person, even from hundreds of miles

away. She sent mom cards with such sweet messages of love along with pictures from

back in the day. Loretta called and spoke to mom regularly, even when mom lost the

ability to speak back. Loretta was steadfast. She was the love that mom needed.

Mom is further survived by her other siblings, Debra German, Kevin Moore, and Willie

Green along with many nieces and nephews. All have checked in, visited, and loved her

dearly.

Suzy was preceded in death by her husband, Richard. Though I have a sneaking

suspicion, he was never very far away. Also preceding her was her beautiful mama,

Robbie Moore, and her kind and gentle father, William Prince Sr.

She was also preceded by her beloved Aunt Kidd, her parents-in-law George and

Gertrude Wheatley, her sister, Robbie Smith, brothers Curly Moore and William Prince

Jr., and many other nieces, nephews, cousins, and dear friends.

Mom, it has been an honor and a gift caring for you these last years. The honor of my

life, in fact. You and I made quite a team. You gave me your magic, and I am so thankful

for it. I promise to use it well. It was the magic of humor and of music that I used to bring

you back to me time and again. Whether it was marching across the dining room floor in

high heels, playing air trombone for your 76th birthday or channeling my inner Rudy and

acting a fool to make you laugh, I did it happily, unashamedly, and with hope in my

heart. And there it would be, your smile, your laugh. My hope realized. It was worth

everything, to be gifted with those magic, and later elusive, moments.

I want to thank so many people. People who made Mom's world larger, more full of love,

echoing with laughter, providing the soft touch of caregiving, and advocating for her

safety and well-being. Being present. And, yes, let's be honest... being recipients of the

'Suzy face.' So, with all my heart, I thank:

Kamarya, you started as a caregiver and immediately became family to both my mom

and to me. Your love and steadfastness, your advocacy, and your inherent goodness

cannot be understated. Thank you.

Mom's Unity Hospice team over the years: Megan, Madeline, Jen, Bill, Anna, Heather,

Laurel, Haley, Paige, Ashley, Jessi, Dr. James, Karen, and so many others who came

for visits.

Mom's Sequoia NP Allison, who always, always gave Mom extra time and love.

Mom's Moments Hospice team: Stacey, Linda, Jake, Rayne, Chris, and Erin. Erin, thank

you for bringing the gift and magic of music to my mom.

Mom's caregivers and the staff at Lotus Gardens: Kendall (who always got mom to

smile), Alexx, Kayla, Jamie, Monique, Marsana, Cece, Davion, Bobbie Jo, Raven,

Monse, Wendy, Hannah, Ashley, Angelica, Jeffrey, Tammy, Bret, Marisa, and Jaclyn.

Jackie, the ideas you create to provide life, enrichment, and memories to those living at

Lotus Gardens are a thing of beauty. A thing of love.

To all of you, hear me well: you matter. What you do for people like my mom? It matters.

Each of you is a gift. The love and compassion you gave, not only to Suzy, but to me,

especially in her last week... even I don't have words enough to thank you.

And Jeni, Mom loved you so. "My Jeni," as she called you. You, her favorite, gave her

so much love and happiness. You were magic personified who could always, always

bring her back. Thank you, my love.

So, with this rather short tale of a woman so loved concluded, I leave you with the

Beatles...

I know it's true

It's all because of you

And if I make it through

It's all because of you

-Now and Then

I love you, Mom. Fiercely and forever.