Sheila Margaret Aleman

  Sheila Margaret “Margo” Aleman, 96, passed away on August 5, 2025, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She was born on March 6, 1929, in Nottingham, England, to Charles and Ada Sawyer.

Margo was a proud Englishwoman who carried her heritage with grace throughout her life. She graduated from Mundella High School and later moved to the United States, where she worked at Hallmark Cards for 15 years. She also volunteered her time at the Boys and Girls Club and several local food banks. A member of the British Brides Club, she found joy in friendship, service, and tradition.

She loved cooking, knitting, and afternoon tea, and found deep comfort in her home, which was always filled with warmth and love. Her beloved pets—dog Ricky and cats Crossy and Salem—were constant companions.

Margo was preceded in death by her parents, Charles and Ada Sawyer; her husband, James D. Aleman; her brother, Brian Sawyer; sister-in-law, Pat Sawyer; and nephew, Brian Sawyer.

She is survived by her children: Roger D. Aleman, Deborah S. Pecoraro, E. Danielle Aleman, and Melissa D. Aleman; her grandchildren: Sharon M. Matson, Jarrod M. Pecoraro, and Cameron Montoya; and her great-grandchildren: Chace, Rafferty, Mikayden, and Beckett Matson, and Olivia Pecoraro.

Margo will be remembered for her devotion to family, her generous heart, and the love she shared with all who knew her.

If By

Rudyard Kipling

1865 – 1936

If you can keep your head when all about you

  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

  But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

  Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,

  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

  And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

  And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

  And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

  To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

  Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

  If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!