A barefoot daughter of the sea has completed her voyage. Jane Atwood Godfrey has left this world. Born on May 12, 1934, she passed on Oct. 29th, 2025 at Skagit Valley Hospital. She spent her last few days surrounded by her family and friends, at peace with her life and her death.

Jane was born in Salem, Massachusetts, daughter of Byron “Bunny” and Helen “Jamie” Atwood, and the third of four children. Elder siblings Nancy Stiles and Byron Atwood preceded her in death. Betsy Nelson, her much-beloved little sister, made the trip from Maine to be at her bedside during her last days.

She is survived by Betsy, along with a bevy of Atwoods, Stiles, and Nelsons from her New England family, and by her two sons, Tad Sowers (Katherine) Paul Sowers (Gail), two daughters, Becky Stermer (Paul) and Jennifer Wurts (Jeff), and three stepdaughters, Amy Webster, Marcie Miles (Art), and Carrie Lockrem (Robert). There is a list of grandchildren and great-grandchildren that has never accurately been tabulated, but she loved them all with the ferocity of a mother grizzly bear. There are recorded instances of Jane leaping to the defense of her offspring that cannot be described here for legal reasons.

She attended Concord Academy and Wellesley College. The family spent their summers at Driftwood Cottage on Southport Island, Maine. It was here that Jane found her spiritual home, and it was here that her lifelong love of the sea was born. As an adult, there was never a time she did not live within sight of the water.

She married Von Sowers and moved west to Vashon Island, where she raised four children, to the extent that they cooperated. She loved us and believed in us even when we were at our most unbelievable. Her love and vision of who we were and who we could be was a beacon guiding us back to our better selves through the stormy seas of our journey to become.

During her time on Vashon, Jane took a great deal of pleasure in her involvement in Vashon Allied Arts. For several years she curated their art gallery, where she had an absolute blast. Her artistic taste, best described as eclectic, eccentric, and democratic, was fully unleashed. That taste was later honed to a fine edge when she attended Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle. Her personal style was a potpourri of colors and carefree design. I think several of her favorite necklaces were created by artists who were about seven years old, and who happened to be her grandchildren. A couple of them had the added benefit of being heavy enough to defend yourself with, in a pinch.

After her divorce, Jane embarked on a journey of her own. She finally took the time to discover who she was and who she could be. She began a career in real estate, combining her love of home design with her love of people. Most importantly, she found the love of her life.

She found her “bumblebee” love when she met Gordon. It was a love that, on the drawing board, should not have been able to fly. But they reached out to one another anyway, and, with a glorious disregard for the aerodynamics of the heart, joined their families together and shared decades of joy, love, and laughter until they were separated by Gordy’s death. For all of their differences in background and experience, they shared a love of the waterways of the world and spent countless hours buying boats, selling boats, thinking about boats, or just generally messing about on boats. Eventually they purchased LaConner Yacht Sales, which allowed them to do all of this professionally.

Jane quickly took to her LaConner community, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. In addition to the Yacht Sales, Jane continued her career in real estate. She also joined the LaConner Soroptimists, where she thoroughly enjoyed helping to run the vintage non-profit thrift shop. She found ample subject matter for her photographer’s eye in the forest, beaches, and waters of the Salish Sea.

Jane and Gordy lived a life full of laughter. Jane’s laugh varied from a gleeful chortle to shrieks of unadulterated joy. Forever etched in family lore is the night we were all playing Scattergories, and the assigned task was to name a sea creature beginning with “W” without duplicating the answer of another player. Jane shrewdly discarded the conventional “whale,” “walrus,” and “whelk” choices, and announced, in a triumphant tone, “Wet animals!” The game quickly dissolved into chaos as we all vociferously decried her choice as she cackled with glee.

Her home was never without one of her many four-legged, fuzzy children. It is wonderful to imagine the furry horde that awaits her. If there is a Rainbow Bridge, there will be happy chaos when she arrives.

After Gordon passed, Jane continued to live a full and active life. She dealt with her health challenges, the loss of her love and her home, her independence, and eventually even her beloved dog, Sugar, with humor, grace, and patience. This is not to say that she did not occasionally let fly with a clearly enunciated mild expletive. She was, after all, only human. She was the very best of humans, the kind that you would wish everyone to have in their life.

In her last years she lived with her eldest daughter, but travelled freely among her other children, dispensing humor and wisdom like some kind of discerning, bohemian gypsy queen. She was able to make a trip back to her childhood home in Maine during the summer of 2025. It meant a great deal to her to see much of her New England family in the place that she held so closely to her heart.

When she passed Jane had crafted a beautifully lined face full of warmth, wisdom, and wit. She leaves behind a legacy of love and joy. Her devotion to her family felt as effortless as a song. This was her passion, and her definition of family was not defined strictly by the narrow confines of genetics. She opened her heart and her home, and taught us all to do the same. Often, in her last several years she expressed her gratitude for the extra care she received from her loved ones, but this time with her was a gift. We would assure her that, since she raised us, and showed us how to care for those we love, it was really all her fault. She taught us to fall and to rise again, and that it is never too late to find your happiness. Her life is defined by the love that surrounded her. The spirit with which she lived her last years was a blessing and an inspiration to us all. To many, she was Home, with a capital H. Though she is gone, that feeling will remain with us for the rest of our lives.