Deborah Kay Ellis was born on a cold winter’s day, January 2, 1957, in Cleveland, Ohio, to her loving parents, Betty Ritchie and Henry Collins. She passed away on February 25, 2026, at St. Mary’s Hospital, surrounded by her family.
Deborah was preceded in death by her husband, Cleo Flora; and her siblings Helen Wilburn, James Collins, Carrol Collins, Maysel Collins, and Robert Collins.
She is survived by her children, James Anderson, Stephen Anderson, and Nichole “Nikki” Pearson; her grandchildren, Kaitlyn Lambert, Bella Anderson, Evan Anderson, Tristan Anderson, Hunter Pearson, Parker Pearson, and Taylor Pearson; and her great-grandchildren, Ensley, Wesson, Marly, and Luna.
She is also survived by her siblings Richard Collins, Patty Collins, Paul Collins, Beverly Collins, and Becky Collins, along with several nieces and nephews. A special mention is extended to her dear friend Carol and Carol’s daughter, Carissa.
Deborah will be remembered by her family and friends for the time they shared and the place she held in their lives. Heaven is lucky to have her, and so were we.
Services will be held Tuesday, March 3rd from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at Wallace Funeral Home in Milton, West Virginia.
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On a cold winter’s morning she entered this world,
carried in arms that hoped for her future,
never knowing how winding
her road would be.
Debbie’s life was not a straight line.
It curved through valleys,
through choices made in storms,
through seasons of holding on
and seasons of letting go.
She loved the best she knew how.
Sometimes fiercely.
Sometimes imperfectly.
Sometimes from a distance
that ached more than anyone could see.
There were seasons when life led her children
along different paths—
each carrying their own story,
each held in her heart
in ways the world may not have always seen.
And now those children stand nearly fifty years strong,
carrying both the questions
and the courage
that come from a complicated love.
There are “what ifs” that whisper.
There are wounds that still breathe.
But there is also this—
a bond that time never erased.
Because love does not disappear
simply because it struggled.
It does not vanish
because it faltered.
It remains—
quiet, stubborn, eternal.
Today we do not pretend her life was simple.
We honor it because it was real.
We honor the strength it took to survive it.
We honor the children who carry her story forward.
May forgiveness soften the sharp edges.
May understanding grow where questions live.
May love be louder than regret.
And may Debbie now rest
in a peace deeper
than any storm she ever walked through—
held in a mercy wide enough
for every mistake,
every hope,
every unfinished chapter.
Her story is not only the pain.
It is also the love that remains.
And that love—
is still here
