We celebrate the life of Barbara Ann Holmes, age 96, who passed away peacefully in the presence of family on June 16, 2026.

Born May 8, 1930 in Tennessee Ridge, TN, she grew up in Lincoln Park, MI, where she met her future husband, Bill, in her teen years.

Barb was the dear, loving, and cherished wife of Bill for over 75 years. He preceded her in death on March 14, 2025. Barb was the devoted and loving mother of Gary (Cindy) Holmes, Brad (Terri) Holmes, Curt Holmes, and Cheryl Holmes; and loving grandmother of Marci, Bill, Kyle, Stephanie, Doug, Jordan, Christian, and Evan. Her presence shaped our family in ways that were quiet, steady, and unforgettable.

If Bill was the CEO of the Holmes family, then Barb was surely the chief operating officer—chief of every department, every detail, every need met before anyone even had to ask. She ran the house with grace, with competence, and with a kind of class that showed up in how she dressed, how she carried herself, and how she cared for the people around her.

Barb was a gifted student and a fine artist who never stopped learning. She painted with charcoal, pastels, water color, and oils, expressing herself through crafts that turned time and materials into beauty. She worked with stained glass and ceramics, framed photographs, and created and repaired her family’s clothing with the steady skill of a seamstress. She had an eye for color and form—an ability to see something ordinary and make it special, to see something plain and make it sing.

And the way she took care of people—especially through the everyday things. She cooked on a shoestring budget, and somehow made dinners feel abundant. She balanced part-time and full-time work to help keep the finances steady, never letting responsibility become burden. She managed to do it all: create, serve, work, and love.

Barb’s church was another home. She played piano and organ for well over 18 years, served with the choir, and brought music that lifted hearts. Faith was woven into her life—heard in the notes, lived in the devotion, and reflected in the way she showed up for others.

Some of our fondest family memories are wrapped in simple joys: dinner and play—groups of friends and family gathered around her table, her cooking, her laughter, and her attention. She also had a green thumb and a gardener’s patience. She tended her gardens and shared her love through garden club, turning plants into pride and seasons into something to look forward to. Even her dried arrangements carried her signature touch—beauty preserved, charm held onto a little longer.

Barb didn’t just care for her own—it was clear she believed love was responsibility. She opened her home to others outside of her family—even when it was a heavy burden to do so. And she took care of each of her parents, Ruth and Lawrence Jacobsen, at the end of their lives offering love, comfort, and support in her home and when it mattered most.

Bill’s description of their beginning says it all. In Lincoln Park, when they were young—he was sixteen, she was fifteen—there was a moment when they were to cross the street. Bill took her hand to cross because “it seemed the right thing to do.” And that simple act became an affirmation and a promise. Bill took her hand all those years ago. And he never let go.

Mom, we will miss you—your talents, your style and elegance, your steady care, and the way you made home truly feel like home. We are grateful—grateful that we never had to earn such tender devotion. We carry you forward—in the music you shared, in the art you created, in the gardens you tended, in the memories we hold on to, and in the love you embodied throughout your whole life.