Sara Jean Moorhead Miller

Jean was predeceased by her parents, Hughes and Frances Moorhead; brother, James Moorhead; sisters, Biba Reavis and Ann Hawkins. Also waiting for her at the pearly gates was the love of her life, her husband, John Q. Miller, Jr.

Jean leaves three children; a daughter, Joanna “Kiki” (Iraj) Mazloom; sons, Joe (Dianne) Waters, James (Heather) Miller; two stepsons, John (Ruth) Miller III and Robbie (Kathy) Miller; sister, Edith Satterfield and about a gazillion beloved grandchildren and great grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

Jean grew up in the small town of Blacksburg, SC, where she left for nursing school in Anderson, SC immediately after high school graduation. Being a registered nurse was her calling and she excelled in her career. She first worked at the VA Hospital in Augusta, Georgia in the tuberculosis ward. There, she met her first husband and had two children during a short marriage.

Jean then moved to Columbia, SC securing a job at the Bull Street Psychiatric Hospital. She worked there several years until she got a job as a civilian employee registered nurse at Fort Jackson, which after a time became Moncrief Army Hospital. She was working in obstetrics and she absolutely loved delivering babies! This is where she spent the majority of her nursing career. After the obstetrics department closed, Jean transferred to the Emergency Room there where she worked several more years before her retirement to spend time with her husband, child, and family, which by then included grandchildren.

They enjoyed traveling, camping, family holidays, and spending loads of time with the kids, teaching them anything and everything. Jean taught them how to garden, can fruits, veggies, she took them on “tractor” (riding lawn mower) rides, lay in the hammock telling stories to them, swimming in the pool, how to feed the fish in the koi pond, when and how to pick berries…Jean was the Grandma that didn’t mind getting dirty or doing anything to get a smile or a laugh.

Jean and her younger sister, Edith, had both lost their husbands so became roommates at a retirement village. After several years, it became apparent that Jean’s dementia required more care necessary than her daughter and sister could provide.

Jean moved into an assisted living facility. With daily visits from her daughter, joining in all of the activities, her outgoing, humorous personality, she became well loved there. Shortly, Jean earned her first escapee “ankle bracelet”. She managed to leave the facility, cross one of the busiest four lane streets at lunchtime, walk two blocks down and into the bank with a large American flag. She asked the teller for a taxi to get to her daughter’s house. The problem was she couldn’t remember her name. Luckily, her room key was hanging from her walker. The teller used the information to call her “taxi” across the street while Jean waited. She was shortly moved to the Alzheimer’s Unit. There was only one door out that lead to the main facility.

In true fashion, she also earned “ankle bracelet: number two, learning to escape from that unit. This time she chose a partner in crime, a retired attorney. I suppose she thought two heads may be better than one. Anyway, they succeeded! Many times.

Shortly after, Jean became ill and was hospitalized. She contracted Covid during her stay and, after about a month, was moved to the Covid unit at a nursing facility.

Jean never walked again. She was now confined to a wheelchair. BUT, after months of physical therapy, that loving personality, and never, ever quits sense of humor…she earned yet another “ankle bracelet”! She had made it all the way out of the building. She was moved from her originally assigned room (too close to the door) to a room right beside the huge, round nurse’s station.

Jean had made it back to her calling. Things had come full circle. It wasn’t too long before she had a seat behind the nurse’s desk; partly to keep her from escaping, but she now had a job. She took her job seriously. She worked hours daily, had her own chart, with her name, Jean Miller, R.N., on it. She charted, she looked through catalogs of uniforms and supplies, writing her choices down. When I brought our twice-weekly lunches, she’d ask the supervisor for her lunch break. It was all very professional. We’d go to the courtyard or her room to eat and she’d tell me about her day.

As Jean’s daughter, I cannot thank and love every one of those people for the care, respect, love, and giving my Mom just what she needed the most, to be a nurse one more time.

At this time, there will be no service. Please hold Jean in your memories for all that she was to you: her loving ways, her humorous personality, her compassion, her ability to be the life of the party, all those babies she brought or had a hand in bringing into the world, the many lives she saved, the smiles she left on your faces, all the love she gave us.

Jean’s last wish was to have her and her husband’s ashes combined and scattered in the ocean at their favorite camping spot. That will be announced and done when the weather is warmer.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.caughmanlexington.com for the Miller family.