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: Steven C. Diaz

My Aunt Holly was very dear to me. When we first moved here to Utah she took myself and my family in. I spent more time at the Andersons house than I did at my own. In that sense she became kind of my second mom. She made me feel like a part of her family when myself and the rest of our family were so scared with living in a new state and having to meet new people.

I would always drive around the valley with her while going to different jobs with Rick and her kids. While driving I remember she would always show me new things in the valley. She showed me where the zoo was, where she grew up, and what the Copper Miine was. To this day, everytime I see or hear something about the Copper Mine I think of my Aunt Holly

We were always welcome at our Aunt Hollys house. I remember of course the time myself and Kevan burned the wall down, and I'm sure everyone else remembers it. But what I remember about it was when she tried to be serious talking to me and Kevan about what we did, but couldn't keep a straight face. Maybe it's because it was something she would have done.

I also cherish the memories of being at work and seeing my Aunt Holly come in to see me. It was like she went out of her way to see how I was doing. We would sit there and just talk for while about family members and of course Grandpa.

I had the opportunity to do some work around her house a few months before she passed away. I actually spent a few days a week there talking with her and laughing. No matter what, she always had that wonderful smile on her face.

She was a person that always supported everyone in all they did. Like I said she was like a second mom to me and I'm sure to others. I will always remember her and keep these memories of her. She is missed by everyone that has ever associated with her, she has raised wonderful children and I consider them all wonderful friends and not just cousins.

We love you Aunt Holly and we miss you.

Steven C. Diaz

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