If you knew my mom, Deborah Ann Ferguson—whether you called her Deb, Debi, Deborah, Ferg, or Fergie, you probably have a story. And chances are, it’s a complicated one. That’s just how life with her was.
The truth is, we didn’t always see eye to eye. In fact, most of the time, we didn’t. But through it all, I still showed up—sometimes when I didn’t want to, sometimes when maybe I shouldn’t have. That’s what you do. Because life doesn’t always look like the movies, and family sure doesn’t either.
My mom faced more than her fair share of loss in this life. It came at her in waves that never seemed to stop. She endured heartbreak after heartbreak, and over time, it wore her down. Addiction played a significant role in her life and shaped much of her story—one of those hard truths that isn’t easy to say, but it’s part of her whole picture and journey. And she was a whole person: not defined by just one part of her story, but all of it.
She spent the last few years in a long-term care facility Country Meadows after a significant stroke. She hated it, she made that very clear—and I was often the one to blame. And that’s okay. Sometimes, that’s just how it goes. Even in that setting, she managed to form connections. She had her favorites among the staff, the ones who saw her, made her laugh, and understood her fire. Because underneath the layers, she was still that spitfire—sharp-tongued, opinionated, and never afraid to challenge you.
She was preceded in death by a long list of people she loved deeply: her parents, Kenneth and Mary Long; her brother, Tom Long; her oldest daughter, Brandi; and her oldest grandson, Cody Sesco. The weight of those losses never really left her. She carried that weight and them every day.
She leaves behind me, her daughter, Candice Gerhart, and my husband, Ryan; her granddaughters, Jayden and Brooklyn Gerhart; her brother Dave Long and his wife, Linda; and her grandsons, Corey Sesco and Jordan Sipes.
There will be no services or arrangements—because that’s not what she wanted. No big send-off. No attention. Just peace. And I know in my heart that she finally has it. She’s exactly where she wanted to be, reunited with the ones she’s missed for so long.
If you’d like to do something in her memory, skip the flowers. Visit a nursing home and sit with someone who doesn’t have anyone. Be a voice and an advocate for someone who needs one. Or consider donating to support those struggling with addiction.
Her story wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And now, she can finally rest.
Werner-Gompf Funeral Services, 1106 Park Avenue East, Mansfield, is honored to be assisting the family with arrangements.
Online condolences may be made at www.wernergompf.com
Funeral Home: Werner-Gompf Funeral Services, ltd.
Website: www.wernergompf.com