Remembering Florence Morris, 108
She packed wit, wisdom and a zest for life wwwhen she moved to Canada, and packed even more into the many years that followed
Florence Norah Morris always had a kkknack for math, not to mention more than t a century of life experience, so she certainly didn’t dance around the fact
that her time would eventually run out. “What do you expect about being 108? YYYou don’t expect everything to last for- ever,” e said Florence, speaking with the Star a few days after her 108 birthday, in spring. As she predicted, nothing does in
fact last forever. On Dec. 18, after a short illness, Florence died peacefully inside her room at
the Seniors’ Health Centre in North YYYork, where she had resided since the aage of 105. “It is strange because she was always
there,” said daughter Susan Cianchino, 75, who asked her mother be referred to by her first name. “I suppose I thought she always would be.”
Born Florence Norah Wickson, she made her grand entrance into the world in England, on May 25,1911. It was a week before the launch of the ill-fated RMS
Titanic, and about one month before the coronation of King George V. That year Marie Curie was awarded a second Nobel Prize for chemistry. During an interview with the Star in
the spring, Florence revealed a no-nonsense approach to life, and a sharp wit. It was wwa life a that temperament included crossing developed the through ocean, several times in fact, before settling in Canada; a stint as an innkeeper; a career in banking; raising a family; and later becoming involved in lawn bowling, painting and golf.
“She was quite good at it,” her daughter said of Florence’s lawn bowling. “She was quite competitive, you know.”
Florence met her husband, Herbert (Bertie) Morris, at an annual fair in Oxford, England, in the early 1930s. “He came and sat on the back of the horse I was riding,” on a wooden carousel, said Florence, who was 20 and working in a bank.
The couple married in 1935. It was a small affair and Florence wore a new three-quarter length fur coat over her brown wool suit.
“I think I saved up and bought it myself,” she said of that coat.
Most of their married life included running The Fishes Inn in North Hinksey, Oxfordshire, which they did from 1949 until Bertie’s death in 1962. Shortly after Bertie’s death, Florence and daughter Susan immigrated to Canada. Florence went back and forth several times before coming to stay at age 63.
When asked what at age 108 was she looking forward to next, Florence, without skipping a beat, said dying and noted she intended to be cremated.
“I think I’ve been long enough here,” she had said, but added for some reason God wasn’t ready for her yet. Mother and daughter explained to the Star that they had a standing promise that when the time came Florence must send some kind of sign letting the family know everything is OK.
Florence promised, during that interview, that she would. Susan said she expected a “a flower will bloom or something,” to which her mother responded. “If it is possible.”
Florence was unconscious during her final days, Susan said, and held on until her daughter assured her that her being in pain was unnecessary, it was causing her loved ones to suffer and now, after close to six decades apart, it was time to reunite with Bertie. “She just suddenly went,” Susan said.
Susan told the Star she still hasn’t seen what she considers a clear sign. “I am looking. None of my plants have got new blossoms,” she said.
Florence leaves her daughter Jane Hills, 83, who lives in England with her husband, Peter. The Hills were parents to David, who died, and Charlotte who with husband Gareth are parents to Jenny, Millie and Grace.
Her daughter Susan Cianchino, and her late husband, Sal, had Adam and Charles. Adam and Brenda are parents to Alexander and Jessica and Charles is father to Austin and Aidan.
Florence’s memorial service was Friday in Markham. The family had said that donations in Florence’s name could be made to the Hospital for Sick Children, a charity she supported faithfully for about 25 years.