Trending
PITTSBURGH - Linda Joann Chaney, 73, of Plum Borough, Pittsburgh, Pa., died Sunday, Oct. 25, 2026.
"People all over the world are going about their day unaware that someone truly special is no longer here. They've never seen her smile, they've never heard her laugh, they've never felt the warmth of her hug, and they don't even know her name. And that's a shame. But the void is real. Something is missing.
"Who is this person?" you might ask. Her name -- Linda Joann Chaney, my mother, and if you've never had the chance to know her, allow me to introduce you.
Some knew Linda as a friend, a familiar face, a comforting voice, someone guaranteed to brighten your day. But for a few of us, she was much more than that.
Victor Chaney knew her as his wife of 50 years, his true love, travel partner, dinner date, porch companion, and compass through life. Through their many seasons of life together, including the illnesses and challenges they recently faced, she remained a constant source of love, strength and direction.
Keri Pazul and I (Shaun) knew her as Mom, our security blanket from the day we came into this world, our best friend, our singing alarm clock, our warmth on the coldest of days, our source of unconditional love, and our biggest cheerleader. She managed to give us everything we needed, even if we didn't realize we needed it. She always knew what was best for us, and we trusted her with everything. We called her a "lesson giver," now knowing how valuable those lessons were.
Nancy Galvin-Bartek, Melodee Mayer-Fleischer, and the late Robert "Bob" Maynard knew her as their sister, "Linny." She was their playmate, keeper of family recipes, knitting and crocheting instructor, and the endlessly patient and caring resource they could always turn to, usually accompanied by a cheeky sense of humor. She was the family artisan, always creating something beautiful with her hands and willingly embracing the passions and hobbies of others to make them feel special.
Carter Chaney, Zoe Chaney, Alexa Chaney, Lilly Pazul, Landon Pazul, Kameron Deane, and Isabella Deane knew her as their grandmother, "Mimi." She was their beam of light, their sense of comfort, always silly and upbeat, and someone who taught them compassion, positivity and the true meaning of selflessness. There is a little bit of Mimi in every one of them.
Katey Galvin (husband, Ryan and son, Ewan Galvin-Craig), Gwyn Galvin (husband, Sean Francis), Tom Fleischer (wife, Jamie and sons, Elliott and Arlo), Rick Mayer (son, Tyler and daughter, Kyra), and Daniel Mayer, knew her as their "Aunt LaLa." They remember years of swapping photos of their amaryllis flowers, sharing recipes that reminded them of their grandmother, “Nana,” receiving hints on tricky Wordle days, the excitement as they pulled up to her house for a family visit, and knowing that she never loved anyone by half-measure. To them, she was one of the kindest and most genuine people they have ever known with a smile that never quit.
Maria Frey (Shaun's partner) and Ed Pazul (Keri's husband) knew her as their mother-in-law and also as "Mimi." They will always remember her turkey dinners, the special birthday desserts, and the way she made everyone feel seen, important, and loved. To them, she was one of the most caring, selfless, and beautiful souls they had ever known. As they simply and perfectly put it, "Mimi was a good Mimi."
And before Linda became so many things to so many people, she was the daughter to Harry "PopPop" and Mildred "Nana" Maynard, both of whom preceded her in death.
But who was Linda when she wasn’t busy being someone’s wife, mother, sister, aunt, friend, or Mimi?
Linda was a woman who found joy in life’s ordinary moments, unable to be rattled by daily annoyances and inconveniences that derail most of us. You could cut her off in traffic and she wouldn't beep at you nor give you the middle finger, she would kindly smile and wave. She didn't complain, it wasn't part of her nature.
Linda was an artist and humbly would not have described herself that way.
Her creativity came to life through the quilts she carefully pieced together, the things she knitted and crocheted, the meals and desserts she prepared, and her musical talent. Every stitch, every recipe, and every creation was not only built by the strength in her hands but also by the love and thoughtfulness that defined who she was. Everything was "made with love."
She didn’t need grand gestures, material items or special occasions to appreciate life. She could find happiness in the things most of us sometimes overlook.
The beauty of a bird visiting the feeder. The familiar melody of a favorite song. The enjoyment of a good movie. The daily routine of texting a friend or loved one. The harvest of a ripe tomato or aromatic herb. Meeting with her quilting and crocheting groups. A trip to the library. The satisfaction of creating something with her own two hands. And if you were interested in learning something new, even if you didn't ask, you'd better pull up a chair and get comfortable. She was going to explain it in great detail, with endless patience, making absolutely certain you learned how to do it the right way, the first time. The best thing you could give her in those moments was your attention, because ultimately that's all she wanted.
She wasn't deliberately trying to make a lasting impression on anyone, and that's what was so extraordinary about her. Because she did and did it effortlessly. She symbolized what a world without hatred would look like.
That is Linda. That is my mom.
My mom quietly stitched herself into the lives of everyone that she touched, and those are threads that even death cannot unravel. We love you, Mom. We miss you, Mom. We'll be okay, I promise.
PS: Mimi loves you.
(special notice)