Kathleen Holdaway - A birthday wish fulfilled

For the past few years, Kathleen always asked for the same gift for her birthday. "Just to feel better," she would say.

This year, on her birthday, that wish was granted as she blew out her last candle-breath and went to join her deceased husband, Sherman, for a pain-free celebration in the sky.

She was 87 years old, and she passed away peacefully at home in her favorite chair with her loved ones circled around her. She left this life on the same day that she'd entered it—November 28th.

In life, she was given a mission that some would say was impossible: to show others what it's like to be completely selfless, even when you're going through your own trials. But she was a big fan of both Tom Cruise and impossible missions and did not shrink from the task.

Even in the midst of her most challenging difficulties, she never talked about herself. She wanted to know how you were doing, how your family was doing, how you were feeling, and especially what you were eating. And she wanted details. Lots and lots of details.

The evidence that she accomplished her impossible mission is reflected in the actions of those around her. In the way her grandkids loved to come and share scary stories with her; in the way her three daughters sacrificed their days, nights, and weekends to attend to her needs in her last years; in the way that she convinced people who really don't like to sing, to serenade her with her favorite Marty Robbins songs while she was sequestered in the bathroom. Her selflessness was contagious, and she infected everyone who came into contact with her.

Her second mission in life was to make people laugh—sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally. In the midst of her trials, you never knew what she was going to say. Once, after a nasty fall and bruise on the forehead, she lay on the floor, waiting for the paramedics to come check her out and help her up. When asked by a family member how she was doing, she said in a strong voice, "I guess I'm a goner. It's been nice knowing you."

She had a creative way with words, and creatively got a lot of them wrong. During the COVID epidemic, she asked all of her kids and grandkids it they'd gotten their "Covert" shots, and did they get the "Visor," or "Moderma" vaccine? And she always appreciated ministering visits from her "menstruating sisters."

Like Sherman, Kathy was adamant about not having a funeral or viewing after her passing. "If you let people gawk at my dead body after I'm gone, I will come back to haunt you," were her exact words. And because we want to abide by her wishes, but mostly because we are afraid, there won't be a public viewing or funeral. We appreciate all of the calls, visits and well-wishes you have shown in in the past few years as Kathy was home-bound and those that have come after her passing.

"I want people to celebrate my life with a pizza party and root beer floats," she said. This is what the family is going to do, and we recommend those who want to pay their final respects should do the same.

Her one regret in life came after the passing of her husband, Sherman, last year. "I never told him I loved him enough," she would say through her tears. She can now put that regret behind her and tell Sherman anything that she wants.

And speaking of hauntings, if you're ever at the refrigerator late at night, wondering if it's still safe to partake of the leftovers in the back and you hear a voice behind you saying, "Don't eat that. It's old," you can probably know that Kathy is paying you a visit.

Kathleen is survived by her siblings: Steven Marshall and Alan Marshall; her four children: Jill Hansen (Dave), Frank Holdaway (Sue), Kerri Johnston, and JoAnna Holdaway (Brock); 15 grandkids, and 24 great grandkids.

Biographical Information:

Birth: November 28, 1938, Provo, Utah

Parents: Neldon Grant Marshall and Katherine Oliver

Death: November 28, 2025

Residence: Orem, Utah