I met Anne when I was 16. I saw so much of myself in her and also my mom, which broke my heart, even at 16. She so badly wanted to be a part of a family, something we presented ourselves as, and I think that more than anything connected her and I, that mutual need and understanding of what a family means when you come from trauma and a scarcity of love growing up. And when she left our family she made a point of reaching out to me and letting me know that I was still her family. Our relationship was ours. She was kind, incredibly intelligent and loved harder than most people I know. She made sure that I knew she saw me and took the time to listen to me when I was struggling. She made sure I knew she loved me when she said it. She wouldn’t let me blow by those words. She held my gaze and made certain that I heard her and knew that I was worthy, in a way only she could. She gave me a key to her cabin in the mountains to use any time I needed to take care of my mental health. Which I did and it literally saved my life more than once. She was one of the first people to reach out when my father died. I say all of this because Anne was many things. It’s a disservice to remember her any other way. She was complex and fascinating and most people didn’t know what to do with that. She could simultaneously sprinkle her star dust over everyone and everything and retreat into herself in the same breath. She stood up for love during a time when people wouldn’t stand up for her and the industry and her partner blacklisted her for it. I know she loved her ex husband, deeply. And she loved being a mom. She loves her kids more than she knew how to love anything else in this world. Love never dies. That always remains present. Thank you for your gifts Anne ❤️