Marie Wickesser

Marie Wickesser, 68, of Liberty, died Wednesday, May 22, 2013, at her residence due to a lengthy illness. Known affectionately as “MeMe” to her many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Marie was dearly loved for her lively sense of humor, endless generosity and wisdom. Due to an unusual misprint on her birth certificate, Marie celebrated two birthdays each year, but was officially born March 19, 1945 in Karnes, Texas, and soon became a lifelong resident of the Liberty area. For many years she was a dedicated employee of The Liberty Vindicator, where she worked her way up to manager of circulation and oversaw newspaper delivery across the region. In addition to providing for her family, Marie enjoyed crocheting, baking, fishing, playing cards, taking family photographs and watching movies. Mrs. Wickesser was preceded in death by her loving mother: Rosie Lee Bishop, sister: Frances Bell, brothers: Terry Bishop, Jerry Bishop, Larry Bishop and David Bishop. She is survived by her husband of 42 years: Ernest L. Wickesser of Liberty, daughters: Brenda Jannise and husband Toby Jannise of Liberty, Laura Damon and husband Dennis of Liberty, and Tammy Beam and husband Tim of Liberty, son: Robert Whitney of Liberty, grandchildren: T. J. Jannise and wife Ruby Jannise, Jennifer Craig and husband Jonathan Craig, Justin Jannise, Nicki Beam, Haili Beam, Karli Beam, Maci Beam, Paige Garcia, Lyri Whitney, and Robert Whitney, great-grandchildren: Sara Jannise, T. J. Jannise, Jonathan Craig, Kaylee Marie Craig, and Braiden Darter, and brothers and sisters: Tommy Bishop and wife Debby Bishop, Maxine Bishop, Johnny and wife Martha Bishop, of Liberty; Kay Sellers and husband Bill Sellers, Nancy Oliver and husband Scott Oliver, Ann Adams and husband Charlie Adams, Barbara Cranford and husband Tommy Cranford, of Arkansas, and other relatives and friends. Arrangements are under the direction of Pace-Stancil Funeral Home, Dayton. Condolences may be sent to Ernest Wickesser, P.O. Box 1964, Liberty, TX, 77575. Yesterday and today your life slipped by us. It was that kind of life: so full of laughter that sometimes we would almost forget how serious we were when we said we cherished it. Now, after the initial shock of not having you always near, we get creative, hunting for signs you're actually here. Next to your photos, our faces turn up new resemblances, then feel embarrassed: they keep so little of your beauty. We rifle through the bureau of remembrances and pin the promises we find to ourselves. Our duty was to make our way without upsetting you— is getting on, and through, never forgetting you.