Charlotte Childress McKinney Simmons, 1942-2006

Daughter...Moody & Jeannie Childress' third. He worked in management at U.S. Steel. She was a homemaker. Born in 1942. Her father nicknamed her "Fireball" for reasons that would later become obvious.



An average student.
A social butterfly.
A lover of dance...or at least a lover of dances.
A cheerleader.
Dated Eddie...who she'd later marry.



An average student.
A sorority girl. A D Pi.
A Bama Belle...which was awarded to girls who were precisely that.



A wife.
A teacher.
A mother of two.
A widow at age 37.
A lover of dogs.
A keeper of friendships.
A focuser on family.



I walked past the A D Pi sorority house today after dropping her grandaughter off at her summer dance intensive being held at Mom's college.

I stood in the football stadium where she likely cheered the Crimson Tide to victory. In fact, I was in the very corner of the student section, ground level.

I stood in front of Denny Chimes, landmark of the quad at The University. Sure, there are footprints and handprints of football heroes in the sidewalk, but I'd imagine she spent more afternoons enjoying college life on that quadrangle than she did in the library that is adjacent to it. That's not necessarily a bad thing, either.

Little did I know that on my last day with her I would spend more time walking in her memories than I ever have in the past.

And it seems very fitting. I think she would've liked the reality that her son was spending time where some of her happiest memories took place.

She died at home.
Last night, around 11PM.
In her sleep, comforted by her husband Will.

And, if my theology is anywhere close to correct, her new stomping grounds are a lot more joyful than even her wildest dreams or pleasant earthly experiences. This gives me comfort beyond imagination. Really. It does...because I'm quite confident that my theology is correct. And I'm confident that hers was (and now is even moreso), too.

So, goodbye, Mom.
I will miss you.

And with your indulgences, friends, in honor of my Mom, The Diner will be closed for a while. Thanks for understanding that even though writing is how I process and deal with things, I'll need some time to live in private for a few days.