Rosalind Moore

Tribute by Catherine

Having Ros as my big sister was like winning the sibling lottery. Our age gap of almost 10 years meant I looked up to her from the beginning.

Growing up, she always made time for me. Her crafts obsession soon became my craft obsession, with one notable weekend spent paper macheing a balloon and egg carton to make a piggy bank. Not many teenagers would give up their weekends to play with their little sister, but she did happily. My crafting never really progressed beyond kiddy crafts in my job as a teacher but she took her crafting onto the stage. I remember her so proudly showing me a pipe she had bent to make it a giant paperclip for The Borrowers. Even as one of her less elaborate props, I was just in awe. Everything she made was so cool!

As well as our love of crafting, Gilmore girls, chicken supreme and Christmas we had our shared love of baking. Our sister connection meant that one afternoon we unknowingly both baked a chocolate cake and even decorated it with the exact same chocolate buttercream. 

She loved dresses and jumpsuits and often pulled me up to her room to try on her clothes. Whether it was sillily trying on her wedding dress after I got engaged to Connor, or seeing if bootcut jeans would suit me, it was a lot of posing and giggles.

I’ll never forget telling her I was pregnant, I can still hear her excited squeal. She shared in my joy, especially as I kept her updated with what size fruit the baby was, buying me an avocado pin when I was 16 weeks along.

I’m so glad my son got to know the awesomeness that was his Aunty RoRo. She even braved a weekend staying over, helping me solo parent when Connor was away for work. She adored Levi, making him smile and laugh. It seemed only fitting that the first time he crawled that it would be for his Aunty RoRo.

I’m going to remember Ros as the fabulous sister she was. The woman who loved a good mooch around the shops, the woman slightly obsessed with fire, the woman who could get a van full of props up a hill in snow.

My bright, beautiful, brilliant big sister. There are no words to describe how much I miss you. I’ll carry you in my heart always. 

Tribute by Lee Moore

I had the honour to be Rosalind’s husband. We were married for just under a decade and together for around 15 years and I am so grateful for the time we had together. My life has been so much richer because of her. Ros was someone who brought light and joy to so many people. She was kind, passionate about what she loved and endlessly creative. She loved her family, theatre, crafting, Christmas, The Gilmore Girls, cakes, prosecco, sunflowers, me, dancing, our cat Winter, the movie The Blindside, parties and so much more.

Hollywood movies often depict a ‘love at first sight’ moment, but I’ve always felt like there are actually lots of moments both big and small that make you fall in love or reinforce that love with someone and make you realise they are the person for you. In our time together there were so many of these moments, but I’d like to share just one with you.

In August 2013 Ros and I went to see one of my favourite bands at Jodrell Bank. Sigur Rós are an Icelandic band that play extraordinary music that ranges from being delicately beautiful to punishingly loud – often within the same song. They are also quite weird. The lead singer has a distinctive falsetto voice and sings either in Icelandic or a made up language called Hopelandic and regularly plays his guitar with a violin bow. On the day of the concert, we arrived at a field in Cheshire and watched the support bands through a sunny afternoon. As the day went on, the weather worsened and by the time Sigur Rós started their set in the evening, it had clouded over and started to drizzle persistently. The band were playing a song called Samskeyti which starts out gently and builds to a sweeping cinematic crescendo. As the music built, there was a moment when the setting sun burst through the clouds briefly illuminating the raindrops and for a few seconds it was like the air was full of diamonds. It was a moment of astonishing beauty that I felt lucky to be sharing with Ros.

For some reason, I was hesitant about looking at her. I hoped she felt the same as I did, but she could have been thinking “I’m stuck in a field listening to this weird band in the rain – how long till we can go home? Which would have been a completely understandable feeling to have. When I did look over at her, she was lost in the music with tears in her eyes, just like I was. And I experienced one of those moments that reinforced that Ros was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.

Ros had a brilliant smile and an infectious laugh. In the 15 years we were together I think we managed to cram in a lifetime’s worth of happiness. I’d give anything to have the chance to make her smile and laugh one more time and I will always miss her deeply. My world was brighter with her in it and is poorer without, but the sadness of losing her is balanced by the remembered joy of the time we had.

Poem shared by Willow Hewitt

Willow, a lifelong friend of Ros, read this poem at her funeral.

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Tribute by Christine Chappelle

Ros was a Didsbury girl born and bred. Her entrance into the world was dramatic, with an unplanned home birth, accompanied by the bells of St James, as bell-ringing practice began.

She was baptised and brought up in the faith and attended Didsbury C of E Primary School. An enthusiastic Brownie and Girl Guide, she learned the clarinet, joined Mike Clarke’s Crusaders group and attended the Vera Madeley School of Dance. She enjoyed group activities, but equally well loved reading and making things. We look back now and see  that much of what she did came in useful in her future career.

Ros’ path was set at the age of fourteen, when her English and Drama teacher at Trinity High School, Sheridan Lewis, put her “on the book”, stage-managing a school production. She just loved it and went on to study theatre and English at Liverpool Hope. Her first professional post was with the Long Overdue Company touring with ‘Macbeth’. Several years of freelance stage-management work followed, at home and abroad. We moved our family Christmases to Harrogate, where she adored working on  pantomime, especially the making of props: her mantra was “Bigger is better, unless smaller is funnier… and add glitter”. In 2016 she was given a permanent post with Sheffield Theatres and moved there with her husband, Lee.

All this might suggest a practical and  outgoing personality, which indeed she had, but it was balanced by a quiet and thoughtful approach to life, deeply embedded in love of family and friends. She had a kind, generous and giving heart, and, yes, she loved a party! Even the month before she died, my brave girl was at the Chatsworth Christmas ball.

She was the joy of my life.