Katherine Kelley

Katherine Marie Kelley was not a quiet woman. She was a simple woman with a big personality. And anyone who knew her — truly knew her — would tell you that's exactly what made her extraordinary. Her legacy lived October 6, 1944 – May 12, 2026.

She was spicy. She was sassy. She had opinions, and she was not shy about sharing them. Solitude for her was pulling weeds in the Arizona breeze if she could from sunup to sundown; She could look at a project and whip up a costume just like that – no fuss, no hesitation, just pure talent with her own two hands, and her feisty self still found the energy to tell you exactly what she thought. And somehow, even when she did — you knew that was how she loved.

Katherine learned early that hard work was not optional — it was who she was. She has the callus’ and scars to prove it. Her tenacious personality allowed her to work and drive until she was 81 years old. In what would become the final season of her life, Katherine did something that would have humbled a person half her age. She packed her entire home with her own hands with very little help, left behind the desert she had called home for more than fifty years, and began again — in Michigan — just less than six months before God called her home. Even at the end, she was moving forward. She never slowed when she could push forward, and she never — not once — gave up. You felt her strength even when breathing her last breath.

She was deeply, passionately, unapologetically in love with the Arizona desert. The quail that wandered into her yard weren't just birds — they were her daily companions, creatures she welcomed and watched over with quiet delight and her love for horses was bone-deep and lifelong — in their strength she saw her own. She was gloriously obsessed with her clocks, passionate about her Ram truck, and as clockwork checking the mail at the same time every single day was not a habit — it was a commitment. Michigan winters were never kind to her spirit. The cold, the grey, the absence of desert warmth — it wasn't where her soul lived. But there was one exception. One light that cut through every cloudy Michigan morning. Every single day, her great-granddaughter Juliana came to visit — and in those moments, Katherine was home again. Warm, loved, and exactly where she needed to be.

She adored those she called her "boyfriends” Ron and Steve — and cherished every conversation that came with them. Her Thursday phone calls with her sister Pammy were sacred, a weekly ritual she held close. After moving east, she reached out to her sisters even more, as if distance had only deepened their bond. And when it came to her children — her love was difficult and it didn't always come wrapped in soft words, but it was never, ever in doubt that she loved the best she knew how. Her brothers and sisters from her Jehovah's Witness congregation poured immeasurable love into her life and she into theirs.

But what those who knew her will tell you is that something beautiful happened. Her faith deepened. Her heart softened – The fire never left — but the warmth grew. She became more open, more loving, more present - although still opinionated and stubborn that was just who she was, but that change was rooted in her relationship with God, and it was one of the greatest gifts received. Difficult as it was, you could see the effort she gave.

Just days before she left us, on Mother’s Day she wrote these words: "Come Monday the heart will be controlled and work out — so that will be a good thing, and we will all be happy." That was Katherine. Hopeful. Forward-looking. Come to grips with reality. Already making plans after being discharged from the hospital – but that day never came where she would be able live life and explore what Michigan had to offer or rummage through thrift stores, watch seeds grow into vegetables in her garden, take camping trips with the family, or pull the handle on a slot machine to feed her new love for the casino. She wasn't done. And yet, in the mystery of God's plan, her work here was complete.

She was the daughter of James "Roy" Davis and Juanita "Ginny" Virginia Clinton and will be fondly remembered by her stepmother Annette Peglow — and in so many ways, she carried them with her. She would disagree but you could see their fire, their resilience, their work ethic and their way of doing things lived on in her.

She is survived by her sisters — Juanita Dennis, Bobbie Davis, and Pamela Diane Newton. They were the girls who played together in the creek, young and unburdened, full of laughter and life. These three women knew her the longest, loved her deepest, and understood her most. Their relationships were not always easy. There were seasons of distance, moments of tension, times when the road between them was anything but smooth. But that was never the whole story. Because through every rift, across every silence, they always — always — found their way back to each other. That is not a small thing. That is the definition of love. And their children, a wide circle of nieces and nephews who will carry her memory forward.

Katherine is lovingly survived by her son, Michael Anthony Jordan; her daughter, Jamie Lynn Lodge, and her husband Steven. She is also survived by her stepson Kenneth Kelley and his wife Libby; and her stepdaughter Grace Ortiz. Grandchildren Eric, Miracle, Joshua, Sierra, Kaylor, Cienna, Stevie, Jason, Heather, and great-grandchildren too numerous to count — they are proof of her legacy. Her greatest work. She loved with everything she had. She lived fully. She is free.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." — Psalm 34:18

“She loved fiercely, worked tirelessly, and lived life her own way and on her own terms.”

Please leave thoughts and memories here on Katherine's Online Guestbook.