Edith Annie Scarbrough (1943 – 2026)

If you ever walked through Edith Scarbrough’s front door, chances are you left with a full stomach, a good story complete with every juicy detail, and the words “love you to the moon and back” echoing behind you. Edith had a way of making ordinary moments feel special, and everyone who crossed her path felt a little more like family when they left than when they arrived.

Edith Annie Scarbrough

Edith Annie Scarbrough was born on May 26, 1943, in Lincoln, Nebraska, and passed away in the early evening of July 27, 2026, in Winchester, Virginia, surrounded by the love of family and dear friends.

How do you fit a life like Edith’s into a few paragraphs? You don’t. You simply gather the stories, the laughter, the recipes, and the memories she scattered across decades and state lines, and hope they begin to paint the picture of the remarkable woman she was.

Edith is lovingly survived by her sons, Brian (Bridget) Scarbrough and Matthew (Lainee) Scarbrough; her grandchildren, Kelsey (Caleb) Peper, Josh (Brendan) Frank, Mark Scarbrough, Layton (Heidi) Scarbrough, and Jessica McHale; her great-grandchildren, Levi, Benny, Esme, Calvin, Audrey and Silas; her sister Anna (Fred) Said and daughter-in-law Denise Scarbrough. Additionally, there are dozens of nieces and nephews who adored her and many friends who will miss her.

She was welcomed into Heaven by her beloved husband of 36 years, Allen Scarbrough; her son, Michael (Denise) Scarbrough; her sisters, Suzanne (John) Reiss and Elizabeth (Kenneth) Greene.

If love had a favorite room, it was Edith’s kitchen. Whether she was baking her famous pudding-filled Bundt cakes, serving up potato salad or biscuits and gravy, or making her legendary Christmas Muddy Buddy and Buckeyes, she had the rare ability to turn simple ingredients into lasting memories. Her recipes filled stomachs, and her table filled hearts.

She found joy in the simple things: an evening with Turner Classic Movies, Josh Groban or Pentatonix filling the room, and the timeless beauty of The Phantom of the Opera. Give her a comfortable chair, a good movie, or a favorite song, and she was perfectly content.

After returning to school to become a teacher, Edith dedicated more than 30 years to Head Start, pouring her heart and joy into the lives of young children. She used what she earned to send her three boys to Catholic school, believing they deserved every opportunity she could give them. She packed lunches each morning, insisted the family gather around the dinner table each evening, volunteered as a Cub Scout Den Mom, kept score at baseball games, served as a crossing guard, and somehow still found room in her heart and at her table for every stray neighborhood kid who needed a place to belong.

Spend more than five minutes with Edith, and you’d hear about her Uncle Bud, the World War II veteran who famously flew into the Fourth of July celebration in his private plane. Before long, the conversation would likely wander to the newest dirty joke she’d proudly discovered on “the Facebook.” She had an unmatched ability to make people laugh, whether they were ready to or not.

Edith and Allen built a beautiful life together. Married for 36 years, they made their first home in Dearborn Heights, Michigan, where they lived from 1966 until 1998 while raising their family. They later moved to Parkton, North Carolina, to be closer to Allen’s siblings. After Allen’s passing in April of 2001, Edith returned to Michigan, where many knew her as the friendly face handing out food samples at Meijer. Others knew her as a beloved preschool “Grandma,” always ready with a smile, a conversation, or a hug. In 2022, she retired to Virginia to be near her son Brian and his family, where she spent her final years surrounded by love.

Edith was many things to many people. She was Mom. Big Sister. Grandma. GiGi. Aunt Edith. Mrs. Scarbrough. She was “the lady with the amazing laugh,” and, to countless others, simply a dear, dear friend.  The world is undeniably better because Edith was in it. She measured wealth not by what she had, but by what she could give: another plate at dinner, another story around the table, another handwritten recipe card, another reason to laugh.

Her greatest legacy isn’t found in any one accomplishment, but in the people she loved so fiercely and so well. It lives on every time her recipes are shared, her stories are retold, and her laughter is remembered.

May we honor her by loving generously, laughing loudly, always stopping for ice cream, and never passing up a Tootsie Pop. If we can do that, a little piece of Edith will always be with us. As she would often say before ending her calls, we love you to the moon and back.