Shelley Hickcox
Dear Dick, Jason & Sarah, and family,
I’m holding you so close right now, my heart entwined with yours as we say goodbye to our sweet Annette. She was pure, quiet light—the kind of gentle soul who made the whole world feel safer and softer just by being in it.
I still remember that very first quiet car ride when I’d only just met her. Out of nowhere, in the softest voice, she turned to me and said, “I like rocks and leaves.” Just like that. No explanation, just this shy little smile. In that single moment she handed me her whole heart, and taught me to start looking for beauty everywhere.
Our Arizona trips are etched into my heart forever: us all packing into a rental van, laughter louder than the radio, chasing a Nut House we never found but somehow never minded. Dick shaking his head, Jason & Sarah trading playful jabs, Garry grinning ear-to-ear, and Annette and I laughing so hard we nearly cried, insisting every detour was the whole adventure. Every time a train roared past, she waved bigger than anyone, just because she loved seeing the people she loved happy.
Annette loved with her whole quiet heart, and she left pieces of it everywhere: in every leaf we now stop to cradle, every pretty rock we can’t leave behind, every story we’ll tell until we’re “old and gray.”
Dick, Jason & Sarah—lean on each other. Hold tight, laugh through the tears, keep her treasures close. She’s right there in every bit of it—still smiling, still saving the prettiest leaf for you.
With all my love and the longest, softest hug,
Shelley
