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Welcome to the memorial page for

Mary T Sloan

July 25, 1951 ~ November 10, 2017 (age 66)

The Piano Brothers

Mary T. Sloan, 66, died November 10, 2017 in Mease Countryside Hospital after a sudden and short illness. Mary died peacefully in her sleep; she is survived by many beloved friends.

Born in Gary, Indiana, Mary lived in Phoenix, AZ as a young child and later in Fort Worth, TX before becoming a permanent resident of Oldsmar, FL in 1990.

Mary formed strong bonds and loving friendships throughout her diverse work life and while pursuing her many interests and passions. Mary fell in love with Texas; a special piece of her heart will always reside there. Mary became a member of the diving community and was a certified diver, rebreather diver, and certified cave diver. Mary was a passionate member of the Scottish community; a long-time officer for the New World Celts--Dunedin Chapter; lifetime member of the Scottish-American Society, and devoted fundraiser for the Dunedin Youth Guild. She was a life student and teacher, a quiet warrior, and sister to many.

The constant in Mary's life was her dedication to protecting the planet; she served as a volunteer for both land and ocean. Known as a force to be reckoned with when organizing, Mary's spirit always shown brightest through her kindness, community support, and fun-loving escapades.

According to Aristotle, "The whole is greater than the sum of its part." Throughout life, Mary gave her whole self to everything and everyone she encountered; the part each holds dear is a special bond that will never end. We thank you, Mary, dear friend and sister, be free to soar to your new life with blessings.

 

A Red, Red Rose

1794, Robert Burns

 

O, my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June.

O, my luve's like the melodie,

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun;

I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o'life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare-thee-weel, a while!

And I will come again, my luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile!


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