Morris Stone

Morris Gordon Stone passed away February 17, 2017 in a San Antonio hospital after a three-week hard and painful battle with cancer.\r\n \r\nMorris, 62, was born January 25, 1955, in Kerrville, Texas, to Kenneth "Burr" and Grace "Coo" Stone.\r\n \r\nMorris was preceded in death by his parents, and his very special niece, Shelby Renee Newman, whom he loved beyond words.\r\n \r\nHe is survived by a very proud sister ReDonna Stone Newman and her husband Wayne; a half-sister Pam Leonard and husband Bill; his stepmother Martha Stone; an uncle Bryant F Stone; and an aunt Rene Stone Sherman. He is also survived by special friends Jim and Lisa Stehling, Ginger Cullins, Mickey and Karen Bailey, Danny and Trena Cullins, Rob Mall, Nidget Boutin and a host of other friends and cousins both near and far. Special thanks to Rosalind Pritchard who sat with him in the hospital when ReDonna couldn't be there and Sam, Sherri, and Maxleen Newman for always being there for him when he needed them.\r\n \r\nMorris was a kind, gentle man who loved his sister's chocolate cake, mashed potatoes and hot rolls. He was an avid golfer and was happiest when he was on one of his five-mile walks or riding his bicycle. He was a master at fixing things and for a number of years was a maintenance supervisor for several large apartment complexes in the Dallas area.\r\n \r\nMorris's wishes were to be cremated without a sad funeral service. Instead, his friends will gather in the spring to exchange "Morris stories" and enjoy being together. His last act of kindness was to donate his corneas so that two other people could see. \r\n \r\nVisitation will be held from 1-3 PM, Saturday, February 25, 2017 at Grimes Funeral Chapels. \r\n\r\n Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only \r\n slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. \r\n Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are \r\n you and the old life that we lived so fondly together is \r\n untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, \r\n that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak \r\n of me in the easy way which you always used. Put \r\n no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity \r\n or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes \r\n that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray \r\n for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it \r\n always was. Let it be spoken without effort, without \r\n the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever \r\n meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and \r\n unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible \r\n accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out \r\n of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere \r\n very near, just around the corner. All is well.\r\n \r\n