Patricia Eileen Hilliard Moore, 74, of Luray, passed from this life Thursday morning at Winchester Medical Center. Pat was born July 30, 1944, in Luray, the daughter of Harry G. and Myra F. Mayes Hilliard, of Honeyville. She greatly enjoyed being active in various organizations within the community, to include the Page Memorial Hospital Auxiliary, in which she served most recently as president; Order of the Eastern Star, Page Chapter #24, in which she served as Sentinel; Page Paws; Mimslyn Inn Porch Rockers; and others. She is survived by sons, Robert H. Moore II (Danette) and Lt. Cdr. Daxton H. Moore (Gabbi), and fiancé, Gwynne J. Jewell; six grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren; and her furry baby, Capella. She was preceded in death by her parents; sisters Louella Hilliard Broyles, Janice Wilson Pettit, and Junella Wilson Melton; and brother Herbert Vernon Wilson.
"Miss me, but let me go."
The following was written by son, Robert/Bobby, at graveside, 3/21/2020:
"It's hard to believe mom left us a year ago this morning, but her timing was exquisitely... mom. On my drive to visit her, today, I thought about how poetic her departure was. Spring 2019 ushered in at 5:58 p.m. on March 20, and the moon went full at 9:43 p.m. on the same day. Both of these were inherently part of her spirituality, coupled with... and yet, separate from... her Christianity. It's as if she waited to be a part of both events before she grabbed hold of the morning star, on the following morning, and went on her way. But she didn't do so without telling us... in notes she had written years before... that she'd be watching over us. That was always on her mind.
As I think more on her passing this morning, I know it's also not difficult to find meaning, for living, in her passing, and I think I'm reminded nearly every day when I think about her. Being mindful of what's important and what's really (REALLY) not so important. It's a bit like a lesson a parent would give to a teen... I hear, but I don't always live by the lessons... though I know I should strive more to do so. It's much less about "stuff" and engagement in unnecessary, unfruitful, conflict, and much more about the value in what I will one day leave behind. It's that "footprint"... what can be done to make sure it's a good one... positively meaningful and of value to family and, whoever happens to find value in words and deeds.
Over the past few years, mom and I spent a good deal of time chatting, both on the phone and in drives in the car. As I drove across the Edinburg Gap and into the Page Valley this morning... where we had a number of deep and reflective conversations... I was engulfed in so many memories. It's my reminder that I need to revisit many of these, with ink on paper.
Thanks mom. Love you."
"Miss me, but let me go."
The following was written by son, Robert/Bobby, at graveside, 3/21/2020:
"It's hard to believe mom left us a year ago this morning, but her timing was exquisitely... mom. On my drive to visit her, today, I thought about how poetic her departure was. Spring 2019 ushered in at 5:58 p.m. on March 20, and the moon went full at 9:43 p.m. on the same day. Both of these were inherently part of her spirituality, coupled with... and yet, separate from... her Christianity. It's as if she waited to be a part of both events before she grabbed hold of the morning star, on the following morning, and went on her way. But she didn't do so without telling us... in notes she had written years before... that she'd be watching over us. That was always on her mind.
As I think more on her passing this morning, I know it's also not difficult to find meaning, for living, in her passing, and I think I'm reminded nearly every day when I think about her. Being mindful of what's important and what's really (REALLY) not so important. It's a bit like a lesson a parent would give to a teen... I hear, but I don't always live by the lessons... though I know I should strive more to do so. It's much less about "stuff" and engagement in unnecessary, unfruitful, conflict, and much more about the value in what I will one day leave behind. It's that "footprint"... what can be done to make sure it's a good one... positively meaningful and of value to family and, whoever happens to find value in words and deeds.
Over the past few years, mom and I spent a good deal of time chatting, both on the phone and in drives in the car. As I drove across the Edinburg Gap and into the Page Valley this morning... where we had a number of deep and reflective conversations... I was engulfed in so many memories. It's my reminder that I need to revisit many of these, with ink on paper.
Thanks mom. Love you."
Patricia Eileen Hilliard Moore, 74, of Luray, passed from this life Thursday morning at Winchester Medical Center. Pat was born July 30, 1944, in Luray, the daughter of Harry G. and Myra F. Mayes Hilliard, of Honeyville. She greatly enjoyed being active in various organizations within the community, to include the Page Memorial Hospital Auxiliary, in which she served most recently as president; Order of the Eastern Star, Page Chapter #24, in which she served as Sentinel; Page Paws; Mimslyn Inn Porch Rockers; and others. She is survived by sons, Robert H. Moore II (Danette) and Lt. Cdr. Daxton H. Moore (Gabbi), and fiancé, Gwynne J. Jewell; six grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren; and her furry baby, Capella. She was preceded in death by her parents; sisters Louella Hilliard Broyles, Janice Wilson Pettit, and Junella Wilson Melton; and brother Herbert Vernon Wilson.
"Miss me, but let me go."
The following was written by son, Robert/Bobby, at graveside, 3/21/2020:
"It's hard to believe mom left us a year ago this morning, but her timing was exquisitely... mom. On my drive to visit her, today, I thought about how poetic her departure was. Spring 2019 ushered in at 5:58 p.m. on March 20, and the moon went full at 9:43 p.m. on the same day. Both of these were inherently part of her spirituality, coupled with... and yet, separate from... her Christianity. It's as if she waited to be a part of both events before she grabbed hold of the morning star, on the following morning, and went on her way. But she didn't do so without telling us... in notes she had written years before... that she'd be watching over us. That was always on her mind.
As I think more on her passing this morning, I know it's also not difficult to find meaning, for living, in her passing, and I think I'm reminded nearly every day when I think about her. Being mindful of what's important and what's really (REALLY) not so important. It's a bit like a lesson a parent would give to a teen... I hear, but I don't always live by the lessons... though I know I should strive more to do so. It's much less about "stuff" and engagement in unnecessary, unfruitful, conflict, and much more about the value in what I will one day leave behind. It's that "footprint"... what can be done to make sure it's a good one... positively meaningful and of value to family and, whoever happens to find value in words and deeds.
Over the past few years, mom and I spent a good deal of time chatting, both on the phone and in drives in the car. As I drove across the Edinburg Gap and into the Page Valley this morning... where we had a number of deep and reflective conversations... I was engulfed in so many memories. It's my reminder that I need to revisit many of these, with ink on paper.
Thanks mom. Love you."
"Miss me, but let me go."
The following was written by son, Robert/Bobby, at graveside, 3/21/2020:
"It's hard to believe mom left us a year ago this morning, but her timing was exquisitely... mom. On my drive to visit her, today, I thought about how poetic her departure was. Spring 2019 ushered in at 5:58 p.m. on March 20, and the moon went full at 9:43 p.m. on the same day. Both of these were inherently part of her spirituality, coupled with... and yet, separate from... her Christianity. It's as if she waited to be a part of both events before she grabbed hold of the morning star, on the following morning, and went on her way. But she didn't do so without telling us... in notes she had written years before... that she'd be watching over us. That was always on her mind.
As I think more on her passing this morning, I know it's also not difficult to find meaning, for living, in her passing, and I think I'm reminded nearly every day when I think about her. Being mindful of what's important and what's really (REALLY) not so important. It's a bit like a lesson a parent would give to a teen... I hear, but I don't always live by the lessons... though I know I should strive more to do so. It's much less about "stuff" and engagement in unnecessary, unfruitful, conflict, and much more about the value in what I will one day leave behind. It's that "footprint"... what can be done to make sure it's a good one... positively meaningful and of value to family and, whoever happens to find value in words and deeds.
Over the past few years, mom and I spent a good deal of time chatting, both on the phone and in drives in the car. As I drove across the Edinburg Gap and into the Page Valley this morning... where we had a number of deep and reflective conversations... I was engulfed in so many memories. It's my reminder that I need to revisit many of these, with ink on paper.
Thanks mom. Love you."
Gravesite Details
Cremains buried in mother's plot. Reverse side of mother's headstone is for Mom/Pat.
Family Members
See more Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard memorials in:
- Leaksville Church Cemetery Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
- Leaksville Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
- Page County Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
- Virginia Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
- USA Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
- Find a Grave Hilliard-Moore or Hilliard
