Holly Rudd Anderson 01-27-52 ~ 02-17-04

Dear family and friends,

It has been six years--coming up to the day that my brothers, sister and I lost our mom. We have been strong. We accept that she has moved on to more important things and are happy for her. At times we miss her of course and prefer not to dwell on things of the past but find it healthy to take a moment every now and again to reflect on the happy memories we have been afforded. This leads me to the point for which I am writing you this note. Because life is moving forward and memories begin to distance themselves, it becomes hard to remember the unique attributes and characteristics that makes someone so special. Of the few times over the past six years that I have been able to spend with grandpa and grandma, my favorite question has been to ask, “Can you please tell me a story about my mom?” I loved to see their faces light up and an ensuing funny, exciting, mischievous story that so described my mom. For a moment I feel like I remember something that I had forgotten. When tragedy happens, to move on you try to forget the hopelessly despairing recollections and with that seems to drift some of the priceless memories that allow someone to live on.
More for my siblings but also for myself, I wanted to ask you to take a moment of your time and write down a memory about my mom. I know people ask this and sometimes you might say to yourself, “Give it a rest” or “that’s so cliche’” to be doing this but it would mean so much to me and I know my siblings that I couldn’t help but ask.
Aunt, sister, cousin, friend, whatever she was to you connects you with us. And with the way our lives continue to forge their way into the future, leaving behind the past, I am afraid that now is no better time to ask this favor of you. On February 17, 2010 I am going to have put together a blogspot with entries from family and friends with pictures, music--including songs that Kevan, Kris, and I have written, poems, etc. as a place where my siblings and I can go when those moments come where we feel like we want to be closer. She left a little early. I have a lot of moments where I want her to be there to congratulate me for achievements I have made or something to laugh at that I know she would understand. She was one of the closest people I have had in my life and one that I wouldn’t have to say anything and she’d understand. A mom is an important person you’d hope would never leave and would be there forever. And she is. I am happy she is where she is.
So, if you would please do me a favor and write just something--it can be anything, you would help me to give something irreplaceable to my family and I know they would appreciate it more than you would know. If you have any pictures that you could download, we always love to see those.
We (the Anderson’s) have been blessed with so many good family members and have more than we could possibly have asked for. I would like to thank you beforehand for your time. I really hope that you and your family are doing well. I am proud to be a Rudd--we are blessed to have had Sam and Marge in our lives and such a great link to keep us together. I’ll miss our reunions but remember the good times.


May this site be dedicated to the memory of a loved one who brought happiness into the lives of those around her. Holly Rudd Anderson came into this world January 27, 1952 to Sam and Marge Rudd. The sister of four, mother of six, aunt, and friend to many more, Holly became known a breath of fresh air. One who understood the needs of others and was always willing to be a listening ear. She always loved a good mischievous endeavor--anything to get a rise out of someone. She loved cars, clothes and loved being the center of attention. Her relationship with her sisters was inspiring and an example to anyone who observed. Many trips, lunches, and days out strengthened their bond and is something that will be missed by all. For the visitors of this site: if you have anything that you would like to express--memories, pictures, thoughts to the children, sisters, or those who loved Holly, or anything else--please send them to tanderson@hspest.com.

From: Kevan Anderson

Well everyone has put together so many great memories of mom. A huge thanks to each of you for sharing your best memories. It is a strange thing, as Tim mentioned, that the more time moves away from an event, like losing someone close to you, the more the frail human mind tends to forget even some of the most poignant of memories.

When I was born, my mom made me a very special blanket that I dubbed my “blanny”. It was a fluffy white blanket with lace trim and was very soft. I was virtually inseparable from that blanket from the time I was born until about 7 or 8 yrs old, not unlike Linus from “Peanuts”. My blanny was an embodiment of my mother and her love. I don’t know what detergent my mom used to wash our laundry but every time that blanket came out of the dryer, it always smelled the same, like my mom. I eventually wore that blanket out and mom had to wean me from it, or I’d probably end up a wack-job today, even more than I already am. Still, I wish that I had my blanny, just to smell it to try and capture the faint scent of mom again.

I grew very close to both mom and dad through my drowning experience. I remember waking up in the hospital and seeing mom there. Dad had rode with me in the ambulance to the hospital in American Fork, and I remember wanting to see her very badly. She never left my bedside the three days that we we’re there. It was only a few weeks before school was out, so essentially I took the remainder of the year off of school and we had spent a lot of time with each other for the next couple of months. In addition, over the next 10 years I had many doctors appointments to follow up on my recovery, so I got to take many days off from school and mom & dad would take me out to eat and spend special time together.

I had a great love for rollerblading/roller skating when I was growing up. I used to spend hours on a daily basis skating on our street. Mom used to come out and watch me and I’d show her new tricks that I was learning how to do. I think that after the drowning, the falling out of the car, the near hanging, and getting hit by a car, mom was a little over protective of me. It probably scared the crap out of her to watch her “Miracle kid” out there putting his life on the line again, day in and day out on rollerblades. The summer between 8th and 9th grade, I finally talked my mom and dad into letting me play hockey. They let me because, it was no contact roller-hockey. Mom absolutely fell in love with the game and following the summer, they let me play my first season of ice hockey. In my 4 years of hockey, she never missed one game and was at most of my practices too. During that time she was really struggling with fibromyalgia and cold environments we’re painful to her but she was always at the games in her blanket.

Among my favorite memories with mom, are the times that I would go and see her at Clair Optical. Many of you have talked about how cool mom was. Don’t share this with my kids, but I used to sluff school and go to her work to hang out there. She would give me the old grandma Rudd finger shake, but She loved it when we would pop in. I loved taking my friends there, because they would always tell me how cool mom was. I usually tried to make it there for lunch. She would always order some wicked nachos from Cancun Mexican restaurant. To this day, when I go there I order the super nacho.

The last couple years of moms life we’re hard for all of us to bear, but the last six months her old spark was re-ignited. My last favorite memory was during Halloween. She and Jill’s mom went with us to a witch festival. As many of you know, mom loved to go to boutiques. Jason was only 9 months old. It was a very special moment to me to be able to have a night to spend with mom and have her as herself one more time before she passed away.

Thanks for teaching me to enjoy life and not be afraid of going after my dreams, mom. I love and miss you!

Kevan Anderson

No comments:

Post a Comment