Kristine Anderson Morrow

It was fitting that early on the morning of Saturday, the 29th of March, Kris left this earth, and with her passing ushered in a spring rain for all of the flowers to come.

Born January 8th, 1958, in Murray, Utah, to Kenneth (Bud) and Mary Anderson, she grew up the second youngest daughter of six siblings. Being a daddy's girl, Kris loved to be outside and ride horses with Bud. She also loved attending the Greek Easters of her maternal grandfather, who came to Utah via Ellis Island.

Kris participated in countless activities throughout her youth and was the Yell Mistress for the Murray High Pep club, a member of the National Honors Society, and an Elks scholarship recipient.

Kris met her loving husband, Michael (Mike), when she was just a little girl, seeing as they were backyard neighbors. When Mike returned home from his mission, he became reacquainted with Kris, and they were married in the Salt Lake Temple in an epic 70s-style wedding. Kris pursued an English degree from the U of U before moving to Wyoming for Mike's career. She went on to become a paralegal and worked for some of the most prestigious firms in both Oregon and Utah. Mike and Kris moved all over the west and midwestern USA while raising their children. She fell deeply in love with the Oregon coast, but the Iowa home was her favorite. Kris and Mike had four boys, Jason, Jordan, Matthew, and Tyler. Matthew was born at 24 weeks and passed away a few short hours after his birth.

She spent their time growing up taking them to Cubs games, national monuments, and protecting them and their baseball cards from tornadoes. After settling back in Murray, Kris found immense joy in gardening, John Grisham novels, her corgis, sneaking her kids strawberry mentos in church, and moving to different homes throughout Salt Lake and Davis Counties (much to Mike's chagrin). She loved to watch her boys find success in their endeavors and their respective sports. A natural Martha Stewart in almost every sense, she loved hosting pretty much anything, pruning her roses, and decorating for any and all holidays. Despite her initial intimidating demeanor, she was the ultimate caretaker, gift giver, and hype man. No significant other, nanny, friend of a friend, or random out-of-towner was safe on any holiday, receiving a homemade card and thought-out gifts just like anyone else in the room. All friends of her sons and daughters-in-law were subject to her praise and support on Instagram in their side hustles and celebrations, as well as comfort and care during their sorrows. She was an absolute sucker for a school or sport fundraiser, always jumping at the chance to support anyone with their goals. She was a true mother to everyone even remotely connected with her.

Out of all her most prized possessions, accomplishments, and moments in life, she would tell you that her grandchildren are her most cherished treasures. She was a force to be reckoned with, and even death would not rob her of the opportunity to see all of them one last time.

When Kris set her mind to something, come hell or high water, that was the way it was going to go. It is a trait she lovingly, albeit maddeningly, passed on to her sons. When she found out her diagnosis was terminal, she was absolute in her desire to “not be a burden,” and even though she could never be a burden to any of us, she had made up her mind.

Kris is survived by her husband Mike, her sons Jason (Sarah) Morrow, Jordan (Cari) Morrow, Tyler (Kat) Morrow, her bakers dozen grandchildren (in birth order) Sophia, Asher, Mathias, Lucas, Jude, Audrey, Phineas, Jack, Lydia, Thaddeas, Norah, Jesse, and Bowie. Her two corgis, Wicket and Solo (who never left her side at the end), a majority of her close friends, and siblings.

She was preceded in death by Sean Connery, both of her parents, her three corgis - Sonny, Bentley, and Riley, and her sweet baby boy Matthew, whom we know she is so excited to see all grown up.

The void she will leave on this earth is indescribable. She was the only grandmother for nine of her 13 grandchildren, a wife, a mother, a best friend, a support system, a shoulder to cry on, advice, wisdom to turn to, a meal in need (and not), a party, gardening help, a ride, a babysitter, a shopping date, a ‘snap out of it’ talk if you needed one, a constant.

In lieu of flowers, the family has asked that any donations be made to the Huntsman Cancer Institute, who worked tirelessly to accommodate a bunch of emotional wrecks through this part of the grieving process. They were kind, gracious, and understanding; we cannot thank them enough.