This past weekend we got to spend time with Lance’s family to celebrate his dad’s 80th birthday.
Almost all his siblings were there. We played games, did work around the house, ate great food, and just enjoyed being together.
My mind kept reflecting back to when we were there two years ago to wish Ron a happy birthday. 
I have no doubt Rory’s there wishing you a happy birthday too.
Love you, Ron!
Rory had a wonderful 3rd Grade teacher, Mrs. Bohls. She loved Rory. I could tell from our first conversations and emails.
After Rory’s passing, I had a few opportunities to talk with her, mourn with her.
One of the times she said something that has stuck with me. It was something like, when I get to Heaven, I’m going to ask God, why her. Because, “We need more kids like Rory in this world.”
Rory wasn’t a perfect child. She required patience. But she had two characteristics that were amazing:
She forgave readily.
She apologized quickly.
When she would accidentally hurt someone, she would repeat, “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t prideful, she wanted to make things better. And she didn’t want the other person to be in pain.
There was a time that Rory was going out to play with a friend. As Rory was leaving, she said, “I hope she uses nice words with me.” The last time Rory had played with this friend, the girl wasn’t the nicest. But Rory didn’t hold it against her. She forgave. She was weary, but forgave her.
Rory still loved her friend.
That’s what happens when you forgive and apologize quickly.
You love. Christ-like love.
I want to love like Rory, so there’s another “Rory” in this world.
I feel like I’m in a car.
The rain is turning to snow. My limbs are cold, a bit numb.
I don’t know the destination, but I have my family in there with me.
As I go to make a turn, my tires slide. I turn into the slide. And I spin. And spin.
Then I see it. Five feet ahead, there’s a wall.
I take one last glance around at each face then I grip the steering wheel.
Bracing for impact.
That’s where I’m at right now.
Bracing for impact.
I’m staring down the year mark. One year without my baby girl.
One year without her hugs.
One year without her laughs.
One year without her cuddles.
One year of holidays without her.
One more first holiday without her left. Halloween.
The tears are coming quicker.
My heart pounds harder, faster.
The breakdowns are increasing.
I’m in a tailspin.
Holding on.
And holding on.
Trying to prepare for what’s coming.
I have a DC comic shirt with three female Superheroes on them.
Rory loved it! Every time I wore it we talked about each of the women and their powers.
She had her Halloween costumes picked out for three years.
2017- Wonder Woman
2018- Super Girl
2019- Batgirl
We got one of those years in.
Man, I miss my supergirl.
A couple of things happened in the summer of 2017.
The house market was up in our area. So my parents decided they were going to sell their house. (We were backyard neighbors.)
Lance got a new job that allowed him to work from home most of the time.
With those two items I told Lance, let’s sell our house and move closer to where our son’s gym. (His gym was an hour drive each way.)
In July we put the for sale sign out.
Then I got this feeling that I needed to put the kids in school across town. The thought was overwhelming.
If our house didn’t sell that would mean a 45 minute drive to and from school. Every day. And that didn’t count our gymnastics driving.
I decided if all the kids got into a charter school, we’d take the leap.
They all got in.
Then I thought this will be good. I’ll get Rory settled into school. Change is hard with AD/HD and anxiety. It’ll be good not to change schools mid year.
She has an IEP. It’ll be good to get that started at the beginning of the year and start working with her teacher.
Other than the 4 to 7 hours a day I was spending in the van, it was a great school.
But I felt like the move was for Rory.
November 10th we sold our house. My parents sold their house. We put a house across town under contract. We were moving at the beginning of December!
November 13th Rory passed away.
Then on November 20th when the boys went back to school, I discovered the real reason for the school switch that summer.
The boys wouldn’t be switching schools weeks after their sister died.
The school administrators rallied around them. One was a counselor before being a principal so he talked with me frequently.
Their teachers cared!
Not only about them but our whole family.
There wasn’t one more change in a life that already felt impossible for the boys.
I’m so grateful for that inspiration. And that we listened.
Rory Ann Moore Foundation 