Wylie Mackie Moore

Yet again, I find myself writing a unique obituary and tribute for one of my favorite people in this world—my dad, Wylie Mackie Moore.

Wylie's siblings would tell you his greatest role in life was that of brother.

I have always loved listening to Dad's stories about growing up with five siblings—Jacquie, Barbara, Jenny, Tim, and Edwin. One of my favorite stories was the day he came home to find his three teenage sisters using his bedroom to get ready because theirs was such a mess. Apparently, this had happened more than once, and on that day, he'd had enough. Dad would laugh as he recalled shouting, "Get out! And I don't want to see another hair roller, bobby pin, or bra in this room ever again!"

As children, they laughed, played, and swam together. As adults, they often turned to Dad for guidance or counsel. He seemed to know how to fix it, whatever "it" happened to be. I think Dad would be most honored to know that today his siblings describe him with these simple words:

"We always felt loved and cared for when Wylie was nearby."

Mary would tell you his greatest role in life was that of husband.

Mom and Dad shared 52 wonderful years together. Mom would happily admit she returned the pots and pans Dad bought her for their anniversary and exchanged them for the emerald ring she'd been hinting at all along. She would also laugh about the day she was ready to strangle him after he cut down the tree in the front yard—the very tree where she had planned to hang decorative glass balls for my wedding.

"Wylie, I had plans for that tree!"

"Mary, that tree was dead. It had to go."

Their marriage was filled with moments like these—equal parts laughter, stubbornness, and unwavering love.

Mom would tell you, without hesitation, that Dad was the love of her life. While Dad navigated cross-country trips and camping adventures, Mom navigated the everyday moments that made a house a home. When she passed away, Dad was understandably lost. Even two years later, he would quietly admit that every morning he still looked over, expecting to see her beside him.

The grandchildren would insist that Poppy was his greatest role.

My dad was a baby whisperer—from his very first grandchild to his last, and every little one in between. Whether it was the deep hum of his voice or perhaps a secret ingredient hidden in Poppy's famous "coffee" (hot chocolate), babies simply adored him.

As the grandkids grew older, I'd often hear, "Mom, your pancakes are good...but Poppy's are better."

Never mind that we used the exact same recipe with the exact same ingredients. Somehow, Poppy's always tasted better. Dad would beam with pride, I'd pretend to be offended, but we all knew the truth.

I am so thankful our children got to grow up with a Poppy who adored every one of them. He took them "out in the world," just as my Granddaddy had done with me. Every year he bought them new school shoes. He sat in the stands, cheered them on, and celebrated whatever activity they loved.

Poppy had a remarkable gift for slowing life down. A one-day project somehow became a two-day project—not because it had to, but because it gave a grandchild time to help build the pole shed, the bench, the pergola, or whatever was next. He played cards with them, fished with them, and taught them that some of life's richest moments happen while sitting on the back porch.

Just last year, he bought a brand-new suit so he could officiate the wedding of his first granddaughter Rachel.

But the truth is...

His siblings, my mom, and even the grandkids were all mistaken.

Wylie's greatest role in life was being Dad.

He raised Andrew and me on truth, hard work, simplicity, and stewardship. He also taught us how to enjoy life and serve others generously. He taught us to do what is right not what is easy, shake every hand with confidence, truly listen when people speak, and hug people like we mean it.

Most of all, he taught us to show up—for celebrations (he was the best man in Andrew’s wedding), for ordinary days, for graduations, and especially for life's hardest moments. I know that because he did exactly that for me.

I will always remember the day I admitted I was struggling with postpartum depression. Dad called to check on me and asked how I was doing.

I answered honestly.

"Well...it's 11:00 in the morning, and I'm standing outside crying, smoking, and drinking a beer."

There was no lecture. No hesitation. No judgment.

His response was simply, "It's going to be okay. I'm on my way."

That was my dad.

When someone he loved needed him, he came.

Our Dad became “Dad” to more than just me and Andrew over the years.

As we grew up and found our forever friends, Dad simply adopted them as his own.

He bandaged Mark's head after a basketball slam dunk mishap, and took as much pride in his graduation as he did Andrew's. He checked the tires on Kelia's and Hollie's cars just as often as he checked mine.

When Andrew married, and later when I married, Dad didn't gain a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law.

He gained a daughter and a son.

Dad thought the world of Debbie. He loved her from the moment they met and Debbie loved him right back. He celebrated her successes, devoured her wonderful cooking and truly coveted his time with her.

After Scott returned from his very first "family man's fishing trip to Harkers Island" with Dad and the crew, he announced he'd just experienced the best week of his life. (We'd already been together for more than five years, mind you.)

Over the years, Dad taught Scott everything from installing a ceiling fan to loving people with an open heart. They truly enjoyed every minute they shared together.

Then, ten years ago, our family grew again. While Beth found her biological mother, she also found a new father. Dad loved her—and her family—as though they'd always belonged.

That was simply who Wylie Moore was.

He made room.

He made people feel seen.

He made people feel like family.

He did everything he could to ease one’s pain.

His love was unquestioned and unconditional.

Life will never be the same without my dad's love. But life will forever be more beautiful because of it. And if the measure of a life is the love it leaves behind, then my dad lived an extraordinary one.

Wylie Moore – an amazing husband, dad, Poppy, Great-Poppy, son, grandson, brother, uncle, nephew, cousin and friend. He loved and cared for each of us in his uniquely special way.

Wylie is survived by his siblings Jackie Stroupe, Barbara Sharma, Jenny Park, Tim Moore and Edwin Moore.

Poppy is survived by his grandchildren Rachel Moore Lassiter (Brayden), Ben Moore, David Stroupe, Sam Stroupe, Caroline Stroupe, Annie Stroupe, Jeff Higgs (Melanie), Joe Higgs (Kelley), April Jones (Jessie), and Sarah Bradley (Christopher). He is also survived by his great-grandchildren Samantha, Logan, Liam, Wesley and Lincoln.

Dad is survived by his children Beth Higgs (Pete), Andrew Moore (Debbie), and me, Amanda Stroupe (Scott).

He will live on forevermore through his family. We love and miss him terribly.

Those wishing to express sympathy may consider donating to the Mary Moore Memorial Scholarship. Donations can be made online at caldwelleducationfoundation.com or by mail to:

Education Foundation Inc. of Caldwell County

1914 Hickory Blvd. SW

Lenoir, NC 28645

A private memorial service will be held later this fall. Details will be shared on social media.