June 2, 1947 – December 10, 2025
By Andrew Bancroft
My mother was a great woman. Her accomplishments were great, the inspiring work she did, the beautiful gardens she grew. But most of all, her greatness could be measured in how much she LOVED.
First, she loved the divine. She had a lifelong dedication to spiritual practice. Nancy Jeanette Parent was born in 1947, in Lewiston Maine, to Dorothy and Maurice Parent. She and her brother David were grandchildren of French-Canadian immigrants. They spoke French in the home, English at school, and attended Catholic masses given in Latin.
Years ago, I interviewed my mom and learned something she had never shared with anyone. In seventh grade, she was walking home from school, when she saw a floating light. She said it resembled St. Joseph walking with a staff. She followed that floating figure and watched it disappear into the woods behind her house. Twelve year old Nancy took this as a sign, that when she graduated high school she should become a Sister of St. Joseph, and that’s exactly what she did. It’s not every day you get a holy vision, right?
At eighteen, she entered the convent. She loved religious life. She did service work, prayed, and developed friendships that would last the rest of her life. After seven meaningful years as a sister, though, she woke one morning with another message – it was time to use her gifts to help people on a new adventure. Leaving the convent led her to new career paths – she would go on to earn her masters degree, and then at age 53 a PhD in medical ethics. This decision also led her to the love of her life. Mom’s first job out of the convent was at AMHI – The Augusta Mental Health Institute, where she helped pioneer a successful therapy program. Every floor needed a male and female staff member, and Nancy was paired with an unlikely partner – a tall, mustached, alcoholic pool hustler. The scoundrel’s name was Tom Bancroft. Our parents had to repeatedly remind us that although they met in a mental institution, they were both working there.
Working late nights together, Tom and Nancy played ping pong in the rec room into the early hours of the morning, and shared their opposite life stories in incredible detail. She remembered him saying “if I could make the changes I need to make in my life to be content, that would be great.” But content seemed like a low bar to Nancy. She said to herself “I want to help this great person be happy. If I accomplished that in life… it’s a life worth living.” That was my mom’s true nature – how can I make life better for others?
Their early years together weren’t easy. They didn’t have much money, and Tom was still struggling with addiction. But the two married in Chicago, and this was where my dad discovered A.A. He repeatedly credited A.A. and my mother for saving his life. He was sober and in love for the rest of his years. Not content, but truly happy. My mom loved my dad. She said he was the most interesting person she’d ever met. They danced together to rock and roll, then square dancing, line dancing, circle dancing – every geometric dancing they offer. They did the crossword together in bed on Sunday mornings. They took a course and became master gardeners together. They traveled the world, renewing their wedding vows in Australia for their 40th anniversary. Somehow, an ex-nun and an ex-hustler turned out to be a match made in heaven.
My mom loved me and my brother, Chris, with her whole being. She was nurturing, patient, and found ways to connect with two boys who couldn’t have been more different. We’re still trying to figure out which one of us was adopted. We grew up in a 200-year-old farmhouse in the rural town of China, Maine. Mom somehow found a way to run a successful private counseling practice, while cooking amazing meals, sewing Halloween costumes, going to soccer games and swim meets, and listening to us when we needed her wisdom and kindness. I was seven years old, when I woke my mom up crying one night. I sobbed, “What if there’s no heaven?” The thought terrified me. She said, “Well, as Christians we believe there is a heaven… but we really don’t know.” And she held me. This honesty and empathy helped us develop a profound friendship that continued to deepen every year until her passing.
My mom loved our families. She developed a beautiful friendship of over 25 years with Chris’ wife, Rachel. She adored her grandsons – Kane, Mace, and Beau. She loved taking you guys to the beach, and tried to make every visit special, whether it was cheese tastings, DIY lemonade stands, or gambling for candy. She officiated Ashley and my wedding, with the intention and big-heartedness this church has also come to know. She blew us away. She also rapped for us in the rehearsal dinner talent show – with a joy and enthusiastic mediocrity that had us all rolling. She loved Ashley dearly, as well as her whole family. My mom loved her brother David, who built the house she designed to live in Saco. Dave has been incredibly helpful to my mom, Chris, and I, especially since my dad’s passing six years ago.
My mom loved her friends. From Ann and Marie in the convent, to sailing trips with the Reddings, murder mysteries with the China Neck Road gang, beach trips with Ruth and other wonderful Saco neighbors, visits from the Garden Club and Elaine and Lamar, and so many other loving people here, on Zoom, and beyond. She reconnected with the Sisters of St. Joseph the past couple years and spent amazing months at their headquarters in Lyon, France – cherishing her time with nuns from around the world, and leading grief workshops for aging sisters. Hello to the sisters in France and everyone else on Zoom! We love you.
My mom loved animals! From her dogs Mandy, Jazz, and Peat, to the hummingbirds that came to her feeder outside the garden room. To the numerous endangered monarchs she helped raise from caterpillars to release as butterflies. We have seed packets for you in the back, so you can help provide for the butterflies in her honor. They like milkweed.
My mom loved this church. As many of you know, she served as interim pastor here, and continued to give guest sermons right up until her final months. When our Dad passed, people here became a loving support for her. Thank you for showing up today, and for the countless times you showed up for my mom in the past. I don’t need to go into more detail, because speaking about how meaningful this community has been to her, would literally be preaching to the choir.
My mom loved life. She loved holding your hand and walking you through her flowers, and having an occasional glass of “Jameson’s” and being completely ridiculous. She loved helping others, through her work as a nun, a therapist, a medical ethicist, a pastor, and more. She approached people without judgement, and shared her joy and wisdom freely. And even as she battled pancreatic cancer this past year, she was generous and grounded.
Two nights ago, I found a journal of hers that she started writing in when she returned from France and received her cancer diagnosis. She wrote, “Well, I just ended a great adventure and am beginning another – not as pleasant, but a great one nonetheless… I know that I am in God’s hands and that this ride will be filled with grace.” And grace is exactly what my mom showed us in her final year. She took the time to comfort us… to help us prepare for a world without her. Of course, there never will be a world without her. She was fond of saying “I’ll always be with you.” And it’s true. Our mother was a great woman, and her greatness is still with us. Inspiring us to be more generous with each other, more understanding, more loving. Reminding us to be curious and kind, to laugh in the face of sorrow, and to grow flowers and release butterflies in a world that can always use more color.