Mervyl Aileen Brooks Vernon-Harley Meyer, born August 31, 1934, in East London, South Africa. Passed 12.22 a.m., June 9, 2023, in Provo, Utah in her own home surrounded by children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and Gerry. We mourn our loss and celebrate her gracious, love-filled, quizzical, gently powerful, and very beautiful soul. She mothered us, championed us and loved us so well. Mervyl was born in East London, South Africa on August 31, 1934. Her father was William Edwin Brooks. She was the long-awaited and cherished child of Mary Frieda Thomson, who, after six previous miscarraiges and still births, took to her bed for months to ensure that this baby, her Mervyl, would be delivered safely. She was her mother’s only child. Mary loved her Girlie Mervyl fiercely and completely until the day she passed. Mervyl spent her early childhood with her maternal grandparents, Alexander and Johanna (Hannie) Thomson, and her mother. Mervyl loved her English grandfather who came to South Africa as a stowaway. He was a station master and hotel owner. Mervyl particularly enjoyed hearing him sing his sea shanties and swimming in the sea with Hannie, her German grandmother. Mary met Eldrid Vernon-Harley, a farmer from the Orange Free State, at her parents’ hotel in the Eastern Cape. They married when Mervyl was 5, and Mervyl moved with her mother to his family farm, Linana, near Excelsior in the Orange Free State. Because of drought in the Orange Free State, Mary, Eldrid and Mervyl moved to the Anglo-American mining camp, Nchanga in Chingola, Northern Rhodesia. She had a bushbaby as a pet, and remembers the monkeys howling in the bush outside of camp. When World War 2 ended, she was charged with running down to the mine, shouting the news, "The war has ended; the war has ended." Mervyl attended boarding school from an early age, travelling by train from Northern Rhodesia to East London to attend school. When the little family returned to the farm, she spent her holidays with her stepfather, mother and step grandparents, and her fat pony, Blue. She was in awe of her proper English step-parents, Herbert and Adelaide Vernon-Harley. She may have learned her sense of propriety and graciousness on the farm Linana, in Adelaide’ s home. Mervyl attended Eunice Girls School in Bloemfontein, leaving in Standard Eight when her step-father died. Mervyl loved her gentle step-father and mourned his sudden passing on March 29, 1949 when she was fifteen. After his death, she and Mary moved to the big city, Johannesburg, where Mervyl attended secretarial school, and she and her mother learned to make their way in the world together. Mervyl met Gerard Meyer from Pretoria on the steps to the beach at Margate, Natal, where they were both on holiday. They married on January 29, 1955 in Johannesburg, South Africa. Together they started our family in Parkview, Johannesburg. In 1967, they moved to Cape Town, the beautiful city where Mom swam in the sea, walked her dogs on the beaches and in the forests, took her children and her friends and her friends’ children and her childrens’ friends to the beautiful places she loved so much: Newlands Forest, St. James’ Tidal Pool, Muizenberg, the Jagerwalk at Fish Hoek, Bains Kloof, Boulders beach, Chapman’s Peak Drive, Rhodes Memorial, Kirstenbosch always Kirstenbosch , and sometimes the South African Museum on a rainy Sunday afternoon. There was always time for an early morning or an after dinner walk, for a meal, to look up a fact in the Encyclopedia Britannica, to examine a flower or touch a tree, and for a drive with T.V. Bulpin open on her lap. And, always, always space for another seat at the dining room table. Mervyl and Gerry welcomed seven children to their family: Margo Bastos Margo, Gillian Meyer Gillian, Paul Meyer Paul, Jonathan Meyer Jonathan, Tessa Meyer SantiagoTessa, Laura Harper Laura and Alex Meyer Killpack Alexandra. And, we were so welcomed. They raised us at The Beehive, 6 Canigou Avenue, Rondebosch, Cape Town. The Beehive was truly her queendom. Filled with books, art prints from the Rondebosch public library that she changed every month, music from the radio on top of the fridge that she sang along to as she cooked, mountain views from every window and a rustling palm tree outside her own bedroom window, family photos, African weavings, multiple dogs, pet rats, mice, and hamsters, a tortoise, and too many orphaned baby birds to count. The dining room windows held sewing projects in progress; the kitchen counters, her chocolate cakes; the stove top, the evening meal waiting to be finished in the oven. And music, always music. She and Gerry opened their home to so many visitors. Truly too many to count sat around their dining room table for Sunday lunch and Christmas Eve dinner. Gerry and Mervyl were a team united in their hospitality and generosity. As we grew up and spread across the world, Mervyl’s mothering did not stop. Five children left South Africa for the United States. Each of us received weekly typed aerograms telling us about life at The Beehive or on Glebe Road. Filled with what she cooked, where the family went, what walk she had taken with her dogs, or a concert she attended. What she was thinking about, concerned about, what she was reading. Hundreds of letters over the decades (until we had the internet) crossed the oceans from her desk and typewriter in Cape Town to our letter boxes across the world. We treasure them. She and Gerry made a very hard transition in her sixties to immigrate to Utah, United States of America, to be closer to most of their children. She loved her birth country, South Africa. She missed her beaches, her mountain, her dogs, her people, her animals. She never grew accustomed to the snow, the cold Utah winter, or driving on the wrong side of the road. Though her world became smaller, she put down deep and abiding roots in Provo, Utah, growing another garden and being a loving, constant, curious presence in the lives of her children and grandchildren. She, together with Gerry, planted another garden that drew birds, and neighbors and grandchildren. She loved to feed them all: melktert, chocolate cake (although the chiffon cake never rose quite as well in the high altitude as it did in Cape Town), sausage rolls and Scotch eggs. She found pools to swim in and trees to walk under. She gathered her children, grandchildren and neighbors around the same magical dining room table. She formed dear, deep friendships with the ladies in her local congregation. She took interest in the young mothers and their new babies. She formed a book club that carried on for almost twenty years. The little home on the park was on the way home from Wasatch Elementary, and their granchildren stopped for cereal after school with Grandma and Grandpa. She was a devoted member of the Mowbray Ward and the Provo Peaks 2nd ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Her religious life was one of service, of compassion, of teaching and friendship. Many called her their true friend and mentor. (She would have been surprised) She was often afraid and lonely as a child, and was especially sensitive later in life to those who might be. In February 2021, Mervyl suffered a stroke, and returned home to be cared for by her handsome Gerry. It was a marvel and a wonder to see the constant, loving care he provided to her. Day in and day out for over 2 years, he cooked her breakfast, lunch and dinner; watched shows with her; and they talked and laughed together. Mervyl’s stroke and deepening dementia loosened her propreity and we delighted to see her cheeky humor, her wry observations and her effusive praise of Gerry, her handsome Gerry, that rose to the surface these past two years. Her last three days, she labored to leave this life. She quietly but decisively choose a time that would allow six of her seven children to be with her, as Gillian and Jonathan were already traveling to Provo. She was surrounded by her loved ones as she took her sometimes difficult leave of this life she loved so well. (She was afraid to die, not knowing what would happen). She did it her own way, and by so doing allowed us to gather to honor her life, to sit vigil with her, and to be part of the sacred end. She slipped from her body, in the quiet hours, while several of her children and grandchildren taking the night watch, sang to her, I’m trying to be like Jesus. Mervyl’s soul loved peace, beauty, kindness, and knowledge. She was a remarkable cook, seamstress, gardner, traveller, student, and friend. She dressed herself with style and quiet flair. She loved a necklace (preferably from Africa), a scarf, a vase of fresh cut flowers, and a swim. She was constantly learning–a new recipe, a new pattern, another history book, another part of world politics, a new food to avoid. She quietly resisted convention, and showed us how to think, to question, to seek out answers, and to always include. She felt strongly that all people were God’s children, all created equal, and chafed under the political system of apartheid in which she grew up and in which she raised us. We inherited her sense of equality and fairness. She chose her words carefully and praised generously. She delighted in new life–spring time, neighborhood babies, grandchildren, great grandchildren. She loved Jesus and her Father in Heaven. She emulated their qualities of love, compassion, temperance, creation, courage, and consistent care and attention for all creatures. She is survived by her husband of 68 years, Gerard Percival Meyer (Provo, Utah). Her children Margo Bastos (Tony António Carlos Bastos)(Port Elizabeth, South Africa); Gillian Godfrey (Howard)(Cascais, Portugal); Paul (Janet) (Boulder, Colorado); Jonathan (Heidi Heidi Chartrand Meyer)(Carlsbad, California); Tessa Meyer Santiago (Kevin Santiago Kevin); Laura Harper (Dan) and Alex Killpack (Tadd) (Utah); 22 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchilden in the United States; Barcelona, Spain; London, England; Cascais, Portugal; Berlin, Germany; Prague, Czech Republic, with 2 on the way. We are blessed to have had her as our mother. And to be a part of the family she created with Gerry.