In Loving

Mary Jane Lung

Oct. 16, 1936 – Feb. 13, 2021

Mary Jane died on Saturday, February 13, 2021, at the aged of 84, surrounded by her husband Warren; her daughter, Deborah Lung (Mary Ann McGannon); her son, Michael Lung (Jean); and her beloved dog, Georgia Mae.  She is also survived by her grandchildren, Emily and Scott Lung, Maeve and Paul McGannon; and her niece, Cindy Harrod Riggs (Fred).

Mary Jane was born in Fostoria, Ohio, to Grover and Guesta England.  She was an accomplished violinist and received her bachelor’s degree from Ohio Wesleyan and her Master of Social Work degree from Virginia Commonwealth University.  Mary Jane was the Casework Supervisor for Child Protective Services at Henrico Department of Social Services until her retirement.

Mary Jane had numerous interests and hobbies.  She and Warren loved adventure and traveled abroad extensively, visiting countries such as England, Russia (her favorite), Turkey, Egypt, Greece, and Thailand.  Mary Jane also loved the game of bridge and was a Life Master.  In addition, she was passionate about antiques, gardening, history, politics, squirrels (and goats), and animal welfare.

Most importantly, Mary Jane’s kindness, compassion, intelligence, quick-witted humor, phenomenal creativity, appreciation for the arts, and thirst for knowledge will be remembered by all whose lives she touched.  She was greatly loved and will be dearly missed by her family and friends.

In lieu of flowers, the family is asking that a donation in Mary Jane’s name be made to the Henrico Humane Society P.O. Box 28014, Richmond, VA 23228, or online at

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

    – Mary Elizabeth Frye