Delores Brown

Delores was born on March 27, 1938, in Hot Springs, Arkansas, to Wilbert and Edith Garner. She went to be with the Lord on August 2, 2025, at the age of 87. She is preceded in death by her parents and husband, James Riley "JR" Brown. Loving survivors include daughters, Pamela (David) Cox, and Christina (Robert) Shepard; son, James (Thu Tran) Brown; several grandchildren and great-grandchildren; her sister, Marie Harding; and a host of friends from the Fountain Lake community.
Delores was a woman of grit and grace, living her life with determination and resilience. She was never one to pretend, never one to perform. She remained true to herself throughout her life and was quick to remind others to do the same. One of her favorite expressions was, "Don't try to make me think you're better than me - because you came out of the same mud hole I did." That was Delores: a woman of unmistakable strength and unwavering authenticity.
She raised her children with fierce devotion, sacrificing often and without hesitation so that they could have what they needed. She worked long hours and often went without - a reflection on her deep, abiding love.
Delores was incredibly talented. As a young woman, she was an all-state basketball player, a detail that reminds us she carried quiet strength her whole life. She became a gifted seamstress, whose hands stitched not only fabric but comfort and dignity. She used her sewing skills while working in occupational therapy, crafting personalized items to help others regain their strength and independence. She also crocheted prayer shawls for church friends, bringing beauty and care in quiet spaces.
Delores had a particular fondness for parakeets. She kept a few over the years, training and rehabilitating them - investing care and attention, even in the smallest lives.
She also had a mischievous streak. Delores once snuck a dogwood tree across state lines, back when such things were more tightly regulated, just to plant something beautiful. She was thrifty and resourceful, with a gift for seeing purpose where others saw none, breathing new life into what most would simply discard.
Delores was consistent in the little things. Every year, without fail, she sent birthday and Christmas cards to her loved ones. It may seem like a small gesture, but those cards carried her presence and thoughtfulness.
Delores had a way of pulling you into conversation and anchoring it in family: in where she came from, and who she came from. Her children are who they are because of her. They were raised not just by a mother, but by a woman of principle and courage. She taught them to work hard, to stand firm in who they are, and to love their family with everything they have.
Perhaps one of the most remarkable parts of Delores' story is how it began. She entered the world so small and fragile that she had to be carried on a pillow and kept warm in an oven-turned-incubator. But even as an infant, she showed determination. From her very first breath, she was full of resolve. And that's how she lived: Steadfast and unwavering in her convictions.
As we say goodbye today, may we carry her spirit of endurance.
We do not grieve as those without hope. For we know that Delores is at peace, her work is finished, and her soul rests in the hands of a faithful and loving God.
"When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me. I want no rites in a gloom-filled room. Why cry for a soul set Free. Miss me a little but not too long and not with your head bowed low. Remember the love we once shared, Miss me but let me go. For this is a journey we all must take and we must go alone. It's all a part of the Maker's plan, a step on the road home. When you are lonely and sick at heart, go to the friends we know, and bury your sorrows in loving good deeds. Miss me but let me go."