Memories of an amazing woman.

When everyone called me Maurika or Rika, she called me "Mo".  My dad still does this and I love it because it reminds me of Grandma.  I have her middle name.  Jeanne.  I love that too.

Grandma Moore, and then later Grandma Jeanne has always been an "untouchable" to me.  Just an impossible strength and fortitude that I hoped would shine through me someday.  (still hoping for that to be true)  She had a secret closet full of wrapping paper and gifts for when she needed them, neatly refolding wrapping paper after christmas.  I do that.  Both of those things actually.   You just never know when you'll need an immediate gift.  Thoughtful, with a select few close friends, I admire the way she navigated the world.

Aside from all of the sweet treat hiding places, and I think I knew them all, my favorite memory of Grandma was in the little things a kid notices.  Morning exercises with the plastic blue and white rope contraption hanging from the closet door.  Hand creme in the bathroom.  Dozens of brightly colored lip stick tubes in the bathroom drawer.  Diet Shasta.  Lucky Charms.  Christmas cookies with Hersheys Kisses in the middle.  A shoe organizer on her bedroom closet door.  Family photos on the wall.  All of the things you see when you are waist high and wandering about...

Intimately however my treasured memory was at Grandma's 90th birthday party.  We were sitting together just watching the family play together.  She had stated her usual witness to the event of us all getting along - which seemed to fascinate her.  Somehow we started talking about the letters my dad has been sending me every month detailing his childhood.  (one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever)  I beamed relaying how John not only relayed his childhood but also drew diagrams of his memories of the house.  The yard.  The shed in the back.  She listened intently and then said.  "He was always such a quiet boy.  I never really knew what he was thinking." pausing she then asked.  "Do you think he was happy?" This was incredible, the opportunity I had been given to give my Grandma - someone I admired and looked up to - a gift of a lifetime.  I just said "Yes.  The memories were thoughtful, detailed, funny and even sarcastic.  I think he was happy."  She just smiled.  "Good."  she said with the emphatic downward nod.  Then the moment was over.

She lives in all of us.  In our smiles, our recipes, our style, our compassion, faith, love...  Admittedly I am still quite melancholy wishing I could see her whenever I want.  Feeling guilty I wasn't there more when she maybe needed me to be.  But I know when I'm honest with myself she wouldn't even hear of it.  Her faith in life and how things are to be will live in me forever.  Miss you Grandma.  Mo.