Cyan Altman-Cartwright

Cyan is survived by daughters Chelbeigh Stargell and Malena Cartwright, sister Kimberly Altman, brother James Altman, Nephews James Parke Altman and Zachary Taylor Scott and 6 Cats and 2 Dogs, Gran Fur Babies.

To know Momma was to know her laughter. She could laugh until tears streamed down her face, and her laugh was so contagious that once she started, it was hard for anyone around her not to laugh too.

Momma was feisty, strong-willed, and absolutely loved being right. She had a personality all her own, and there was never any mistaking how she felt about something. But underneath that fire was a heart that loved deeply. She loved her girls, her “baby bears,” with everything she had. We were her world, and she was our Momma Bear.

She adored her own mother with her whole heart. Her love for Grandma was woven into everything around her. Our home was filled with Grandma memorabilia, little reminders of the woman she loved so dearly. Even some of Momma’s funniest little quirks carried pieces of that love. She had her own way of saying movie titles, and somehow we always knew exactly what she meant. “The Little Dinosaur” was her name for The Land Before Time, Grandma’s favorite movie. Those little moments became part of our family language, and they are memories we will carry forever.

Momma had a playful side, too. She would stick out her tongue and scrunch up her face just to be cute, making us laugh even when we probably didn’t feel like laughing. She loved to read, loved her movies, and could happily spend a day watching The Shawshank Redemption or Something New. And when it came to food, it was pizza and Mexican food all day, every day.

Some of our favorite memories were the simple, silly ones. One year, we celebrated Momma for Muffins for Mom. Instead of going to school, we stayed home, watched movies, ate muffins, and called it a day. It was our own little excuse to play hooky—and honestly, it was a pretty great day.

Momma also loved a clean house. We would turn on music from the TV—usually some ’90s or Y2K station—and spend hours cleaning, rearranging furniture, and somehow deciding that the house needed to be rearranged all over again.

She loved the sunshine, too. One of the things she was happiest about was having a glass screen door put in at the front of the house because she loved having the sunlight pour through the door at any time of day. We would sit there with the door open, letting the warmth and light fill the house, and simply “do the day.” The walls would turn yellow and golden from the sunlight, and for those moments, nothing else seemed to matter.

Momma had a way of turning ordinary days into memories without even realizing she was doing it.

She called Lena “Pop Tart” because she would hop out of bed every morning, ready to get dressed for school, while Chelly was her “Biscuit” because she was always so slow to rise. Those names were silly, simple, and completely Momma—and somehow they say so much about the love and familiarity that filled our home.

There will never be another laugh quite like hers, another Momma Bear quite like ours, or another person who could make the ordinary feel so much like home. We will miss her fiercely, but we will carry her with us—in the laughter that makes us cry, in the sunshine coming through the door, in the music playing while we clean, in the books we pick up, in the silly faces we make, and in every little piece of her that she left behind in us.

She was our Momma. She was our Momma Bear. And we will always be her baby bears. ❤️🌌