Margaret Thornley

Margaret Thornley, 94, of Augusta, died on August 9, 2013 of natural causes.A vigil service will be held on Tuesday, August 13, 2013 at 7:00 p.m. at St. Matthias in Augusta. A Funeral Mass will be held on Wednesday, August 14, 2013 at 11:00 a.m. at St Matthias. Schnider Funeral Home is handling the arrangements.Margaret Rose Rychkun Thornley was born on August 3, 1919 in Sand Creek, Montana to Mytro and Sophis Kwasney Rychkun. She was the 10th of 11 children born to the Ukrainian/Austrian immigrants. Her birth name was Magdylyna Rose, but the teacher of the one room school house in the Ukrainian/Austrian community called her Maggie and as she got older it was thought that Maggie was short for Margaret and so it was that she became Margaret.Margaret was raised in the small community north of Circle, MT where she met Wilbur Thornley. They married in 1935 and together they raised five children. They lived in various cities in Montana choosing Lincoln, MT as their retirement home. While living in Lincoln up Stonewall Creek area Margaret and Wilbur did everything together including gardening, getting in the winter supply of wood, working on the cabin and playing pinochle every chance they got. Margaret loved to cook and bake and did very intricate embroidery until she lost most of her eyesight. Her Catholic faith was the foundation of her life, praying the rosary each night until she had a stroke in May of 2013. While in Lincoln, she was active with the Daughters of Isabella and VFW Auxillary.She is survived by four of her five children, Hugh (Pat) Thornley and Jean (Danny) Williams both of Great Falls, Willie Thornley of Lincoln; and Mary Ann (Larry) Davis of Augusta; 19 grandchildren; 34 great-grandchildren; 17 great-great grandchildren; several nieces and nephews; and a very special friend Sara ODonnell of Choteau.Margaret was preceded in death by her husband, Wilbur; a daughter, Florence (Tot) Lefebre; two grandsons, David Thornley and Craig Furlong; and 10 brothers and sisters.To know that she is no longer in pain, alone, and no longer looking for her people gives us some consolation with our loss.