Brenda Richart

Brenda Richart, 76, of rural Robinson, IL, passed away on January 3, 2026, at Select Specialty in Evansville, IN. She was born on August 8, 1949, in Palestine and grew up in Oblong, rooted in a family that stayed close, not only within its own walls, but across the branches of the family tree, too. Cousins were not distant relatives to Brenda. They were part of the circle. From the beginning, she learned that love is something you keep near, something you practice, something you make room for. And Brenda always made room for people.

She used to call herself the "tomboy" of the family, and it fit. She ran with the neighborhood boys, played sports right alongside them, and through the Girls Athletic Association, she stayed active as a young woman before graduating from Oblong High School in 1967.

She thrived on work done quietly, faithfully, and in the background. Brenda served as a personnel secretary at Marathon Oil Company from 1970 to 1972, later worked as secretary for the probation office for a time, and finished her career as secretary at RAIN CII Carbon, where she served for over ten years before retiring in 2012. She also served for a few years as the church secretary at Robinwood Assembly of God. But her career isn't what defined her 76 years. It was the love she so selflessly gave.

On November 21, 1970, she married David "Dave" Richart, and together they began building the kind of life that would become a shelter for others. Their marriage spanned 55 years, and their home became a steady place, a familiar place, a place you could walk into hungry and walk out cared for. There are houses where people live, and then there are homes where people are received. Brenda's was the second kind.

If you were a friend, you were fed. If you were one of the kids' friends, you were still fed. If you were one of Mike's EIU football teammates, you learned quickly that Brenda was "mother mom," the one who made sure you did not slip through the cracks. Living only an hour from home meant his college friends could randomly show up, and it was never treated like an inconvenience. It was treated like an opportunity. Because at Brenda's, the table was never just about food.

Meals began with hands held and prayer spoken. It was a simple rhythm: faith, gratitude, and then the feast. And no feast is complete without a dessert. Sometimes it was cookies, sometimes cakes, sometimes brownies or pecan bars, all from scratch. Sometimes it was a pie, made on request. Sometimes it was those big Tupperware containers filled to the brim with cookies, sent home with grandkids like a sweet kind of provision, like a physical reminder that Brenda loved them to the brim.

She loved her family deeply, celebrated them fiercely, and still, she was often more apt to listen about someone else's kids than to talk about her own. Brenda had a way of turning attention outward. Even her devotion was selfless. She stayed all-in for her children and grandchildren and refused to miss what mattered. She kept up with their interests, sports, schedules, and stories. She helped keep her sons connected to what was going on in each other's households, weaving the family together through simple updates, phone calls, and care that never clocked out.

Her life proved time and again that she was a caregiver, not a caretaker. She gave to everyone. She helped financially. She cooked for people. She showed up in practical ways that made life bearable, and she often did so in secret. She did not like being fussed over. She did not like receiving blessings from others. She preferred to be the one blessing, quietly, faithfully, as if it were nothing at all, even though it was everything.

You could see that same heart in the things she made. Brenda created "puppy pillows" for her kids and great-grandkids, and for nieces and nephews, too, carefully choosing the right material and putting thought into every stitch. It was a tradition her grandma started for the children in the family, and when her grandma couldn't do it anymore, Brenda picked it up and carried it forward, the way she carried so much forward, simply because it needed carrying.

It should come as no surprise that her faith was not some theory. It was real. It was what stitched together the fabric of her days. A member of Bailiff Church, she carried a servant's heart and a God-given gift of service. Serving was not a burden to her; it was a blessing. She seemed to be filled up by filling others up, as if God had wired her soul to find joy in meeting needs, in noticing people, in making sure no one went without. And now, her faith has been made sight. The Savior she served in the ordinary has received her into the eternal, and the love she poured out so freely has found its home in the presence of the One she loved most, where there is no more sickness, no more burdens, only fullness of joy in His presence.

She is survived by her husband of 55 years, Dave Richart; by her sons & daughters-in-law, Michael & Jodie Richart, Daniel & Laura Richart, and Steven Richart; by seven grandchildren & their spouses, Jesse & Alyssa Richart, Jason & Alyssa Richart, Kaitlyn & Clayton Kendall, Christy Richart, Carlie & Austin Walker, Emily & Harrison Hartzburg, and Abby & Christopher Duncan; by nine great-grandchildren (with one on the way); by her mother, Neva Otey; by her sisters, Diana K. & husband Paul Smith and Bev Otey; as well as several nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her father, Harold Otey, her brother, Gary Otey, and her great-grandchildren, Wesley and Marley.

A time of visitation will be held from 4:00-7:00 p.m. on Thursday, January 8th, at the Goodwine Funeral Home in Robinson. Funeral services will be held at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, January 9th, at the funeral home, with Pastor Shane Bopp officiating. Burial will follow in the Richart Cemetery. Memorials may be made to the NOW Program, providing nutrition on weekends to local students. Memorial envelopes will be available at the funeral home.