Charlotte N Moller

She was preceded in death by her beloved husband and partner of fifty years, Carl Moller, and by her cherished sisters Catherine (angel baby), Jean, Jewel, Marylyn, and Ruth, and their spouses, people who knew her longest and loved her deepest. She is survived by her son Douglas, her daughter-in-law Kacy, and her four grandchildren, Savannah, Holly, Jeffrey, and Juliet, the ones who called her Nana and meant it with their whole hearts. Carl and Charlotte attended the Incarnation Lutheran Church in Rancho Bernardo, CA and then Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Sandy, UT.

Born in Morganton, NC on November 13, 1938, Charlotte's early life wasn't easy. But she had the kind of grit that turns hard beginnings into remarkable stories, and she spent the rest of her life making sure the people around her never felt anything less than deeply loved.

She met the love of her life, Carl, in San Diego. He was in the Navy, she was managing a jewelry shop in Coronado, and they fell hard and fast. They married on May 5, 1965, and immediately set off on a honeymoon that became family legend. Their car broke down in Sweetwater, Texas, and while waiting on a new engine to be shipped from General Motors, a kind local couple took them in. One evening the couple hosted a fancy cocktail party, and Charlotte found herself in jeans while every other woman was dolled up in eveningwear. She slipped away to the restroom and returned to find a woman sitting on Carl's lap. She saw red, walked straight over, and knocked the woman clean off. Carl jumped up to hold her back, which resulted in the entire room, including the woman on the floor, absolutely losing it at this tiny, fiery spark plug of a woman. She was a 5-foot-tall force of nature, and she was nobody to mess with.

In 1975, she and Carl welcomed their son Doug into their family through adoption, and from that day forward, Charlotte never let a single moment pass where Doug didn't know he was her greatest gift from God. She meant it with everything she had. She brought him everywhere, never missed a soccer game, a taekwondo match, a school event, not once, not ever. She didn't just love being a mom. She was made for it. And Doug knew it, even if it took growing up to fully understand just how rare and special that kind of love really is.

She built a career that would make anyone's jaw drop, rising from secretary to Senior Vice President at Scripps Health, constructing buildings from the ground up, leading 18 clinic locations, and blazing a trail for women in leadership in San Diego long before it was fashionable. She won countless awards, but the ones she treasured most were the ones that couldn't be framed, the employees she mentored, the glass ceilings she helped others shatter, and the people who called her a lifeline when life fell apart. She was known for seeing people exactly as they were, judging them on their merits and nothing else. Not their race, gender, or any other characteristic. She saw potential where others didn't, and she made it her mission to help people reach it. She loved fiercely and without condition, and the people around her knew it.

But ask anyone who knew her, and they won't lead with her resume. Her lifelong best friends Shelby and Nancy and her Utah besties Tricia, Christine, Connie, Denise, Vicki, Cleone, Clara, Evette and countless others that I am forgetting, they'll tell you she remembered every birthday, every child's name, every hard season a friend was walking through. That babies and children were drawn to her like a magnet because they could feel, without a single word, that she meant it when she loved you. That her CNAs at the Assisted Living community where she spent her last days came in just to tell her they loved her, that they would miss her stories, that they would miss doing her Chanel makeup.

For many years, almost every summer, she made her way back to North Carolina with Doug in tow to be with her sisters and her loving nieces and nephews, Allen, Barbara, Charlotte, Charles, Chris, Debbie, Donna, Frances, Jeff, Jewel’s Sheila, Kenneth, Linda, Lynn, Ruth’s Sheila, Steve, and Tim. Two to three weeks of card games, laughter, and the kind of joy that only happens when you're exactly where you belong. She kept those relationships alive with phone calls that stretched for hours, remembering every niece, every nephew, every milestone. She was the thread that kept the family woven together.

In one of life's most beautiful gifts, Charlotte spent some of her final months back in Morganton with her niece Debbie, great niece Tonya, and great great niece Addy. They swept her up into a season of pure joy, the kind most people don't get at the end of a long life. Together they went on adventures that would make someone half her age tired just thinking about it, concerts where she may or may not have been trying to get a date with Justin Clyde Williams, theme parks, the beach, and a bunch of other scenic trips. She lived those months with wonder and delight, soaking up every moment.

Charlotte always dreamed of having a daughter. After adopting Doug, she and Carl tried to adopt a little girl, but that adoption did not succeed, and it broke her heart. And while life didn't give her one in the way she expected, it gave her something even sweeter. When Doug married Kacy, Charlotte gained the daughter she had always longed for. Kacy loved Charlotte not out of obligation, but with a full and genuine heart, the way a daughter loves a mother. In Charlotte's later years, when the days got harder, Kacy showed up with a grace and devotion that left everyone who witnessed it in awe. She anticipated every need, sacrificed her own time and energy without a second thought, and made sure Charlotte always felt dignified, cherished, and never alone. Charlotte knew what she had in Kacy. She would say it with her eyes even when words got harder to come by. One of her last great memories was Kacy taking her to the Tulip Festival one final time. It was a perfect day. Of all the gifts life gave Charlotte, finding her daughter in her son's wife may have been one of the most beautiful surprises of all.

And then there were her grandchildren. Oh, her grandchildren. Friday night sleepovers became legendary, Savannah, Holly, Jeffrey, and Juliet piled into Nana's bed, girls in beautiful nightgowns, mouths covered in chocolate ice cream on a $2,000 bedspread, performing concerts on a digital keyboard while Nana clapped like they were on Broadway. Potions made from flour, water, and backyard berries. Pixel bead masterpieces. Every toy in the basement, which Nana cheerfully cleaned up every single time. She was there for every recital, every game, every school play. If her grandchildren were in it, Charlotte Moller had a front-row seat.

She loved Carl with all of her heart and soul, devoted to him through fifty years of marriage and faithfully so even after he was gone. She would tell anyone who'd listen that Doug was her greatest gift from God. And those of us lucky enough to be loved by her know, we were the lucky ones.

Rest easy, Mom. Save us a seat in that big bed, with ice cream. 🍦