TRAVERSE CITY — Wanda Semer, 86, of Traverse City, died peacefully early Monday, Nov. 18, 2013, at her home with her daughter at her side.
She was born Feb. 11, 1927, in Hamtramck, the daughter of Walter Lawrynowicz and Stella Zukauskas. On Sept. 13, 1947, she married Frank Joseph Semer in Detroit.
Her parents, a sister, a brother and her husband, Frank, preceded her in death.
Wanda had resided in Traverse City for the past 18 years, moving from her longtime residence in Dearborn Heights. She spent her winters in Bradenton, Fla.
Wanda’s greatest joys were enjoying the natural world while basking in the sunshine, creating beautiful flower gardens and enjoying time with her family. She cherished the friendships she maintained with lifelong friends from the Detroit area. Friends and family reveled in her wonderful sense of humor. She was a humanitarian to the core. She will be missed dearly by all who were lucky to know her.
Wanda is survived by five children, James (Lesia) Semer, of Alachua, Fla., Gail Semer, of Traverse City, Gary (Cathy) Semer, of Plymouth, Kevin (Julie) Semer, of East Detroit, and Eric Semer, of Southfield; eight grandchildren, Erin (Chad) Humphrey, Emily, Jordan, Adelle (children of Gary and Mary Gadbaw Davis), Kristen (Gary and Cathy), Joel and Janelle (children of Kevin and Julie), Aniya (child of Eric); and three great-grandchildren.
A private family memorial is planned.
The Central Lake Chapel of Mortensen Funeral Homes is handling arrangements.
Wanda wanted to share this poem,
The Beads of Life
By Nancy Ward
The space between events is where most of life is lived. Those half-remembered moments of joy or sadness, fear or disappointment, are merely beads of life strung together to make one expanding necklace of experience.
The space between events is where we grow old. From sunrise to sunset one day lives as another day emerges from the fluid womb of dawn, the first bead strung upon the everlasting thread of life.
The space between events is where knowledge marries beauty. In quiet reflection we remember only the colored outline of events, the black and white of war, the rosiness that surrounded our first love.
The space between events is why we go on living. The laughter of a child or the sigh of wind in a canyon becomes the music we hear expanding in our hearts each time we gather one more bead of life.