Mary "Cindy" Lucinda James Morical

Cindy was the kind of person who remembered your birthday and sent the card early. She was proper in the best sense: for most of her life, a fresh application of red lipstick before stepping out of the house was non-negotiable, as was a string of pearls when she was young. She was warm in a way that made everyone around her feel good. She was, as one friend put it simply, a classy lady.

She was born and raised in Oakwood, Ohio, and spent her adult life moving across the country: Chicago, Washington, D.C., Northbrook, Illinois, Orange County, California and Chapel Hill, North Carolina before settling in Carmel and then Zionsville, Indiana, to be close to her grandchildren.

Cindy devoted herself to her family with a quiet steadiness. She was a homemaker with a strong volunteering spirit who prioritized her time with her family. She made art projects with her grandchildren when they were young and played her favorite, Rummikub, with them, even after they were adults. Her most fulfilling work outside the home was as a special assistant to Jay, a young student with disabilities, during his elementary school years. She had a gift for showing up for people who needed her.

She was disciplined. She played pickleball before it was cool, having come to it from a lifetime of tennis. She exercised every day. She reminded her children, with great regularity, to get a glaucoma test and a colon screening. She knew what mattered, and she said so.

Her kitchen was a place of midwestern comfort and quiet tradition. Yorkshire pudding at Christmas, a nod to her father's Welsh roots. Spinach and egg casserole at Easter, her mom's homemade spaghetti sauce. These were regular fixtures in our home. She also knew how to celebrate. One fun memory that has stayed with us: a dinner at the Drake Hotel around the year 2000, fried scallops, a cocktail in hand, and Cindy laughing and smiling - so happy.

At Hoosier Village, where she lived her last decade, she became a beloved fixture and good friend. She played dominoes. She participated in a wine and book club. She went out regularly to dinner with friends. She walked the halls saying hello to everyone she passed. She wheeled residents to chapel. After her passing, the notes from friends arrived: "She was one of the most kind, compassionate, helpful, friendly persons I have known.” “She helped me through a dark time.” “She was my favorite person at HV.” “Everyone who knew her will miss her."

On her refrigerator, in her unmistakable handwriting, the kind where you recognize a single letter as hers, were two notes she had kept there a long time. "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." And: "You have to grow old, but you don't have to grow up." She lived both.

She cared for her husband, Bruce, with unwavering devotion through five years of declining health before his passing last year. When he called her from the nearby healthcare center in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep, she would go to him in her pajamas and stay until he drifted off. Fifty-seven years of marriage looked like that.

When her own health failed suddenly and dramatically this spring, she faced it with grace. She tried hard to recover. She put resistance bands on her arms to exercise from her hospital bed. Her minister visited her near the end and found her at peace, knowing, as he said, that God always had her life in His hands. In her last week, she was home, where she belonged, with a full bird feeder outside her window, complete with Bruce's handmade contraptions to foil his arch nemesis, the squirrels. Cardinals flocked there, and when she saw them, she thought of her own parents. We think of her every time we see one.

Her very good friend, Bill Lattimer, called her his pretty lady, and her eyes lit up every time he walked into the room. How fortunate they were to find each other at this stage of life.

Cindy is survived by her son, Greg Morical, and his wife, Alice, and their children, Lea, Scott, and Kyle; her daughter, Mimi Lichtenstein, and her husband, Jason, and their children, Allison, Jessica, and Trevor; her sister, Nancy Linxweiler, and brother-in-law, Fred Linxweiler, and their families. She is also survived by the niece and nephew from her late brother, Tom James, and by the many friends and residents at Hoosier Village whose lives were brightened by knowing her. She was predeceased by her brothers, Robert James and Tom James.

She will be missed at the dominoes table, in the halls of Hoosier Village, at our tables for every day and special occasions, and at each birthday that comes around without a card in the mail.

In lieu of flowers, the family kindly requests donations to the National Audubon Society (Donate Now to Protect Birds | National Audubon Society).