Philip "Bruce" Mosher passed away peacefully on Friday, March 6, 2020 at the age of 92. Bruce was born in Greene, New York on July 17, 1927 to Frank and Dorothy Mosher. Much of his childhood was spent in Upstate New York alongside his parents and siblings, Alan and Roberta.

In 1942, at the age of 14, his family relocated to Lake Worth, Florida. There he trained as a Merchant Marine in St. Petersburg, Florida, enlisting in the United States Navy upon completion of his training. Following his naval service Bruce began serving as a Police Officer with the Lake Worth Police Department. This began a 35-year career in law enforcement during which he held positions with the U.S. Border Patrol, the U.S. Agency for International Development, and the U.S. Customs Agent at the Blaine, Washington Duty Station.

On May 16, 1950 he married Marina Morros, his loving wife of nearly 70-years. Together they raised four children and called many places home including Florida, Texas, California, Virginia, Taiwan, and finally Blaine, Washington.

Bruce was an accomplished artist in many media. From his home art studio, he created striking works ranging from watercolor landscapes to charcoal portraits of his grandchildren. His artwork can be found adorning walls throughout the homes of his family and friends. In retirement he volunteered his time with the Blaine School district teaching enrichment classes in basic cartooning and helping fourth graders improve their reading comprehension. 

Bruce was preceded in death by his parents and both of his siblings. His brother Alan was killed in action in France, December 1944 in WWII at the age of 19. He is survived by his wife, Marina Mosher; his children, Cathy Mosher, Carol Mosher, Cindy Lervik (Mark), Charles Mosher (Moki), 10-grandchildren and 15-great grandchildren.

I love you and miss you, Grandpa! -Molly

by Jan Richardson

I cannot tell you

how the light comes.

What I know

is that it is more ancient

than imagining.

That it travels 

across an astounding expanse to reach us.

That it loves

searching out

what is hidden,

what is lost,

what is forgotten 

or in peril

or in pain.

That it has a fondness for the body,

for finding its way

toward flesh,

for tracing the edges

of form,

for shining forth

through the eye,

the hand,

the heart.

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way

into the deepest dark

that enfolds you,

though it may seem

long ages in coming

or arrive in a shape

you did not foresee.

And so

may we this day

turn ourselves toward it.

May we lift our faces.

to let it find us.

May we bend our bodies

to follow the arc it makes.

May we open

and open more

and open still

to the blessed light

that comes.