Dian Curtis

It is with heavy hearts that we announce that Dian Louise Curtis, proud mother, devoted grandmother, lifelong teacher, baking queen and a creative force, passed away at the age of 76 on Tuesday, February 10, 2026.

Born in St. Louis on November 21, 1949, she was the daughter of Edwin and Patricia (nee Kelly) Bender and proud mother of Kelly (Joshua), Matthew (Mary Jo) and Patrick (Edna); devoted Gramis to Noah, Riley, Madelyn, Kilian and Shae; dear sister to Brian (Marianne), Michael (Virginia), and the late Judy; and beloved niece of Marianne (John).

She graduated from City House, where as a student athlete she lettered in field hockey, basketball, and softball. This athleticism would carry into her adulthood as a champion bowler, a skill she passed onto her children, and as a proud gold medalist in the Golden Games. She was a star spectator at all of her children's sports events, making sure to attend even when they didn't know she was there, cheering quietly from the stands.

For over 40 years, Dian was a dedicated primary school teacher, spending most of her career at Rockwood School District. As a child, she had struggled to learn how to read, a hardship that motivated her to begin her teaching career as a reading specialist. She was known for her levity and sense of humor in the classroom, and her role extended past the school day: she would help her own kids with homework after a long day at work, and spent summer breaks as a children's reading tutor.

After four decades as an educator, she closed up her gradebooks and retired to spend more time with her family. By then she had become a voracious reader, reading anything and everything she could get her hands on and always bringing at least two books on vacation. The library was one of her favorite local haunts; you were guaranteed to find multiple borrowed books at any given time in various rooms around her house.

In retirement, Dian could frequently be found at crafting stores, collecting ideas and items that she skillfully transformed into her next fake bake or breathtaking wreath. She made hundreds of ornamental wreaths over the past decade: any occasion, from a birthday to holiday to season change to Cardinals' Opening Day called for a custom Dian creation, many of which adorn her family's doors to this day. Despite demand and encouragement from others, she never wanted her creations to be a business, finding true joy in the process of sharing her love with others rather than assigning it a price tag.

Dian adored bright, vibrant colors, which was especially evident in the permanent holiday tree she kept up in the living room, decorated with care each month to mark the passing holidays. This became a staple of visits to her home, inspiring whimsy and joy to all who entered. But of course, nothing compared to December, when Dian was known for going all out to celebrate Christmas, one of her favorite times of year. She would routinely remind her children that there were only "30 more Mondays until Christmas"; said children believed in Santa Claus for longer than they would ever admit because of how magical she was able to make Christmas morning. As in-laws and grandchildren came into the picture, these celebrations only became more grand, but she was always the heart of them all and they will be impossible to replicate or forget.

Above all, Dian's greatest joy and purpose, the role she cherished most, was that of mother and grandmother. She lived a life marked by deep devotion to her family and was happiest when surrounded by her three children and five grandchildren, especially around the Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner table. Her life revolved around her children and she was immensely proud of the adults they grew up to be. In her later years she was able to relax into her true form, spending as much time as possible doting on her five grandchildren who only knew her as the Dian she'd always wanted to be: a cookie-hiding, card game-playing, quiche-baking, always laughing Gramis. She truly wanted to do everything for her grandkids, and found great fulfillment and purpose in being a grandmother.

Dian loved nourishing her family. There was always a fresh batch of homemade fruit preserves being jarred, cookies in the mail, and cheese in the fridge; she was always baking banana bread or pumpkin bread, her famous quiches, and trying new recipes. Watching Nailed It! inspired her to run a baking camp with her grandchildren. Experimenting with real bakes brought many hours of creativity and joy and inspired her ever-growing collection of fake bakes; such was her talent that trying any dessert left out in the kitchen became a risky real-life game of "Is It Cake?"

To Dian, nothing was more important than community. She was a fierce friend to everyone, from coworkers to friends stretching all the way back to high school. She remained active and social, loved chatting to strangers, fostering close relationships, and showing up for others. She was always just a phone call away, ready to ask about your day and lend a listening ear. Incredibly organized, with a keen eye for detail, she was always early with a handwritten card, never missing a birthday or holiday.

She also found community early as an active member with the Junior League helping out with fundraising, and later as a member of Immaculate Conception Dardenne Church, where she found great joy in line dancing, buying toys for families in need, and her quilting group. She claimed her slipstitch was not up to par, but she was certainly being modest.

Dian's Irish side came out in her sarcasm and quick wit, especially during her favorite pastime, her daily texts and calls to her adult children. A question often asked was, "Did you play nicely in the sandbox today?" She also treasured playing games with her family, and while she pretended to hate losing, she secretly loved how much joy others got in winning.

In the rare moments she was alone, she enjoyed playing Johnny Dollar radio detective stories while driving. She was always asking for the latest film and television recommendations, and was fond of attending live theatre shows. Passionate about flowers and the botanical gardens, a favorite pastime was to 'West Wing it' with a walk and talk around her neighborhood or the local park with family.

Despite not having the means to travel in her younger years, she made up for it after retirement by filling up her passport, and was always ready to join the next adventure. "My bags are always packed," she'd remind her children, ready to pick them up at the drop of a hat. Dian was excited to try new experiences and see the world, whether it was family trips to Branson or Barcelona.

She always wanted to stay active, both physically and mentally, and was in constant motion. Regardless of how tired her body may have seemed on the streets of Chicago or Paris, her spirit pushed on, saying in jest she could sleep when she's dead. Rest well Dian, you've earned it.

As we mourn her loss, we also celebrate the love, joy, and kindness that were the essence of Dian's being. The legacy she leaves behind is one of lifelong teaching and learning, gaining and sharing knowledge with others, and caretaking and kindness towards children. Her passion was evident in every wreath crafted, quiche baked, line dance danced, and unexpected cookie package mailed.

Visitation will be on February 18th from 4-8 pm at Hutchens-Stygar Funeral Home in St. Charles, Missouri. Funeral Mass will be on February 19th at 12 pm at Immaculate Conception of Dardenne Catholic Church.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to Turn the Page STL, a children's literacy organization that continues the work Dian so strongly believed in, and the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, whose mission to treat and defeat life-threatening childhood diseases was also close to Dian's heart.

We encourage you to honor Dian's legacy of love and care by calling on a good friend, baking something delicious to share, writing a birthday card, sending an unexpected gift in the mail, or drinking a bourbon Manhattan.

She will be greatly missed but forever remembered.