Donna Faye Dunbar, a beloved wife, mother, and cherished member of her family and community, passed away on Saturday, January 3, at the age of 77, surrounded by those who loved her.

Born on September 7, 1948, in Casa, Arkansas, to Thomas and Wilma Stover, Donna devoted her life to her family, always placing the needs of others before her own. As an admired school teacher for more than 35 years in Arkansas and Florida, she helped shape the minds of thousands of young people. Her kindness, warmth, and unwavering love left a lasting impression on everyone privileged to know her.

Donna was the devoted wife of Jerry Dunbar of Haines City, Florida, with whom she shared 48 years of marriage. She was a loving and nurturing mother to Rebecca and Molly. Donna took immense pride in her family, speaking at least twice daily with her twin sister, Iva. She found happiness in cooking, fishing, tending her impressive garden, antiquing—especially fine dishes and glassware—and watching true crime documentaries. An accomplished seamstress, she sewed beautiful clothing for herself and her daughters.

Donna is survived by her husband, Jerry Dunbar; her children, Rebecca (Alex) Moschina and Molly (Mo Alboazati) Dunbar; grandchildren, Marlow and Maxwell Moschina; siblings, Iva (Richard) Lawson, David Stover, Sue Allen, and Lou Davison; and countless nieces, nephews, and cousins. She was preceded in death by her father and mother Thomas and Wilma Stover; and siblings Thomas Van Stover, Elizabeth “Glenda” Ruiz, and Jimmy Stover.

The family hopes to hold a celebration of Donna’s life at a future date in Arkansas.

Donna Faye Dunbar will be deeply missed and forever remembered for her love, humor, strength, selflessness, and the light she brought into the lives of those around her.

For everyone grieving this heartbreaking loss, the family shares the beautiful words below, written by poet Andrea Gibson:

My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living. Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?” In my back pocket is a love note with every word you wish you’d said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love you more for everything you feared might make me love you less. When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials. Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand. One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every morning. I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now making of your pain, your deep-seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before. Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise it’s the truth. I promise one day you will say it too – I can’t believe I ever thought I could lose you.