Marian Sawyer

We are here today to bid a final, respectful farewell to a woman who was a true daughter of Leeds, a dedicated professional, and a complex soul who lived a life framed by both history and deep, quiet loyalties.

While she may not have left behind a traditional family tree, the presence of those of you here today, friends who have spanned decades and witnessed her many seasons, proves that she was far from alone.

Marian was a bridge between two worlds. Her parents, Paul Sabersky, and Irma Charlotte Bertha Sabersky, German Jewish citizens, fled Berlin in February 1939. Marian’s story also begins in 1939, a year of profound upheaval. For she was a heartbeat in her mother’s womb on that journey, arriving in England  just as the world was descending into such darkness.

order, knowledge, and hard work defined her days

So Marian was born into the safety of Leeds, a city she would never truly leave. That sense of displacement her parents felt perhaps contributed to the private, sturdy nature she maintained throughout her life. She was a fixture on the staff at the University of Leeds for many years; a place where order, knowledge, and hard work defined her days. She was also an active and longstanding member of the Anglo-German Society. Many friends from that group are also here today.

The roots of one of the friendships in this room go back to the B’nei Brith Young Adults Leeds Lodge. It was there that she and Hazel began their friendship that would last for over half a century. To look at her in her later years, one might forget that she was once the young bridesmaid standing with Hazel by her chuppah, sharing in her joy with such a close role.

For decades, the rhythm of their lives was marked by a Sunday afternoon phone call. It was a sacred ritual of connection. It is a poignant irony that it was during that very time slot a few weeks ago, the hour reserved for friendship, that the person on the end of Marian’s phone line was not Marian’s voice, but another friend, Linda, calling to share the news of Marion’s fall.

We would not be honouring Marian properly if we spoke only in platitudes. As one friend honestly noted, she could be a difficult lady in her later years. She was formidable, perhaps a bit stubborn, and did not always make it easy for people to get close.

But true friendship is not about finding someone who is always easy; it is about showing up anyway. You showed up. You visited her in the hospital during those final days, and you are here now to ensure she is accompanied on this final journey. That speaks volumes about the woman she was, and the incredible character of you, the friends she kept.

her explicit request for a Jewish funeral reveal a hidden truth

Though Judaism was not a visible practice in Marian’s life, the discovery of her old prayer books and her explicit request for a Jewish funeral reveal a hidden truth. In the quiet moments of her eighty-six years, her identity remained anchored to her heritage. Like the pages in those books, her faith may have been weathered by time, but the foundation remained.

Today, we honour Marian’s wish. We return her to the traditions of her parents and the history of her people.

May her soul be bound up in the bond of life, and may her memory be a blessing to the few who knew her best.