those wheels keep going 'round

As some of you know, my grandmother, known around famously as Miss Momma, passed away Sunday morning. I hesitated with the idea of writing anything about this, but writing (and reading!) this may be helpful and healing. And honestly, what better subject about whom to write than the gentle and sweeter than honey Miss Momma?

Growing up in the Moore family meant growing up close to your family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and most importantly, grandparents, were just as close as brothers and sisters. I never even toyed with the thought that this closeness is strange until I got older and had friends who barely knew their grandparents. 

Miss Momma taught me how to play piano. She taught me how to sing alto and be a functioning member of the Von Caldwell-Moore Family Singers [Seriously, sometimes my family just sits around and sings in four part harmony. How embarrassing...;-)]. By example, she showed us how to have strong faith, a positive attitude, and unending patience. Oh my Lord, did that woman have patience. (And not only because she put up with that silly little jokester, John Caldwell, for 55 something years!) Together, by example, Miss Momma and Mr. Diddy showed off just what qualities like commitment and love are. The truest form of commitment and love.

Having multiple sclerosis never slowed her down in the sense she lived a very full life. Oh, you say she'll eventually not be able to walk? Not a problem. With her scooter, Miss Momma traveled to places where that scooter probably never even dreamed of going! (I mean, hello, 3 trips to Disney World. Luckiest scooter ever). Mr. Diddy was right behind her (literally, she was a flying speed demon in that scooter) the whole way, never once stopping to let MS tell them she couldn't do something. 

As we were flipping through old photo albums yesterday compiling pictures for a memorial slideshow, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of gratitude. Gratitiude for all of the birthday parties, all of the Sunday dinners (post church lunch at Miss Momma and Mr. Diddy's. It's a thing), all of the Christmases spent tightly situated in their living room, all of the Nutcrackers, all of the Disney trips, and all of the thousands of hours I got to spend with Miss Momma. I got to spend that time with her. I'm the lucky one. 

Miss Momma, you may be gone (and this may be so cliche), but you are not and will not ever be forgotten. I can't wait to continue to learn from your life and apply those lessons throughout my life--to let your example shine through as I go on on this earth. 

I love you. 

I'll close with my favorite MM story. At the time (and for several years after), this story did not amuse me. Now I am very amused. 

Once upon a time, I wanted nothing more than a sister. And when a sister is all you want and a sister is what you get, nothing can get you to the hospital fast enough. Especially with a speed limit abiding Mr. Diddy driver. I was the antsiest of pants on the drive to the hospital. I must have asked How much longer until we get there?? every minute. I'm sure my constant nagging was not endearing by any means. Finally, after a good while of only hearing my woes, Miss Momma calmly said,

"Emily, every time the wheels go around we get that much closer."

That sure shut up an impatient 5 year old. And it is something that I'll never forget.

All my love, Miss Momma. All my love.

To read her obituary (beautifully written), click here and search for Ann Caldwell.