Loving Anne

A year ago today, I held Anne’s hand and gave her one last kiss as we said goodbye. It was the end of ten days in the hospital following her terrible accident. It was the end of my 20-year marriage to a wonderful, smart, funny, beautiful, caring partner — my best friend. I was there with Kate, my brother, and my mom and dad. We left the hospital for the last time and went to my parents’ house to eat a little dinner, cry, and try to wrap our heads around what had happened. Anne was gone.

The next month was a haze. I felt like I was in a perpetual fog. I kept fighting a huge feeling of disbelief — that this was all some sort of mistake, or that Anne was just “away” somehow, somewhere, and if I could use all of my brain to solve the puzzle of her absence, I could bring her back. But on another, more realistic level, I knew of course that was a fantasy.

I kept a journal to try to process my feelings. Four days after she died, I wrote:

I’m wrestling with grief. I’m still a bit in disbelief that Anne is gone. That I will never see her again. That she won’t be there when I get home, or call me up at work to tell me something interesting she learned. That she won’t say “Sleepy go nigh nigh” just before she falls asleep in bed. That we won’t have another vacation together, nor another Christmas. Nor our weekend games of Bananagrams over morning coffee. We won’t visit friends together, or do one of our usual 5-mile weekend walks. We won’t make cotton candy together for the Bryant Blast.

I went back to work, and my manager and coworkers were very gracious. If I’m honest, I wasn’t getting much done, but having somewhere to go during the day was good for me. Meetings were hard. It took a while before I felt comfortable in a large meeting with other people, so I took many of them remotely — even when I was in the office. And I still felt like I was in a fog.

There were a lot of details to keep track of — accounts to close or transfer, processes to put in motion, paperwork to fill out, phone calls to return. I started making lots of lists and prioritizing things into Today, Tomorrow, Next Week, and Sometime. Even now, I still have plenty of things sitting in the Sometime list.

Several people recommended joining a grief group through The Healing Center. I signed both Kate and me up. My group met on Zoom. Kate’s teen group was in person, but wouldn’t start for a few more weeks since it aligned with the school year. These groups have been helpful for both of us. It’s nice to be around people who can genuinely relate to what you’re going through.

I began planning a remembrance for Anne. She had a huge community that adored her — friends, family, colleagues, students, parents. Should I have one service or two? And what kind? And where? A funeral didn’t sound right. In the end, it felt like her school, Bryant Elementary, was the place to do it, and I decided on one big Celebration of Life. Bryant staff and volunteers poured an extraordinary amount of time, care, and talent into making it happen. They created a tribute that filled the auditorium and gym with love for Anne.

Thanksgiving and Christmas were intentionally different — an attempt to face things head‑on and shake things up. No turkey at Thanksgiving. And for Christmas (also Kate’s birthday), Kate and I escaped to Honolulu. With 2025 behind us, I felt like I could finally let out a breath.

As 2026 came on, I thought the initial acute grief of the first few months was behind both me and Kate. And I was right, to a point. But that phrase “grief is not linear” kept echoing. I would have a stretch of “good days” followed by a few “bad days,” and all I could do was give in to the grief and let the tears come. So many tears.

By the end of February, we had already faced many firsts without Anne — my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kate’s birthday, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day. For spring break, Kate and I headed down to San Diego, which was nice but also hard because Anne had a real affinity for San Diego, having gone to college there. I thought of her often on that trip, remembering our past visits.

“Anne would have liked this.”

How many times have I said that over the last year? Whether it’s a TV show, a restaurant, or a pretty view. I miss being able to appreciate new things with her.

I was dreading the summer a bit, mainly because of the final “firsts” that were coming — our anniversary, Anne’s birthday, the accident, and today, the anniversary of her passing. But writing has helped. I wrote an entry for each of these “firsts”, and that act helped me distribute my feelings over several days of writing and editing, so when the actual days arrived, I had already processed a lot of what I was feeling. Even the words you’re reading now, I started writing in July.

Which brings me to today, August 14 — and to the music that connected us throughout our life together. When I think back on that time one year ago, I remember that in the preceding ten days in the hospital, I played Anne’s favorite songs each day from her Spotify favorites list. And when I would give a condition update in this blog, I often mentioned a couple of songs that were played that day. I knew Anne was in a coma, but I hoped that some little part of the music might make it in, somehow.

Our story, in music

When Anne and I met in early October 2002, we quickly realized how much overlap we had in the movies and music we loved. We compared favorite artists and traded music recommendations.

One album Anne was especially into at the time was Sea Change by Beck, which had come out just a few weeks earlier. She played it often, and I quickly became a fan too. In turn, I introduced her to songs from the two most recent Flaming Lips albums, Yoshimi… and The Soft Bulletin. When we learned that The Flaming Lips were supporting Beck at Benaroya Hall in November — opening for him and then serving as his band — it felt like fate. Tickets were acquired. It became our first show together.

The night of the concert, we lingered in the lobby right up until showtime. When we heard the first song start, we hurried down the hall to find our seats in one of the elevated side boxes. We opened the door to see The Flaming Lips already in full celebration mode on stage — animal costumes, colored lights, giant beach balls bouncing through the crowd. It was a joyful, chaotic party.

After their set, Beck came out alone with a guitar in front of a scrim for his first two songs. Halfway through the third, the stage behind the scrim lit up and The Flaming Lips joined him. The rest of the set was electric — and a fun first concert to share with Anne.

One Flaming Lips song, “Do You Realize??,” could bring a tear to my eye even before Anne’s passing with its line, “Do you realize that everyone you know, someday, will die.” It’s a song about life’s impermanence and cherishing your loved ones while you can. It’s both celebratory and melancholy.

When I was initially choosing music for Anne’s Celebration of Life slideshow, “Do You Realize??” was in the running. But in the end, these three songs felt right for that day:

Here Comes My Girl – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Shining Star – Earth, Wind & Fire
Solsbury Hill – Peter Gabriel

Tom Petty was one of Anne’s favorite artists, and to my ears, “Here Comes My Girl” is one of his best. “Shining Star” brings the kind of bright, joyful energy that fit Anne so well. And “Solsbury Hill” carries a reflective yet hopeful spirit — something that speaks to the experience of profound change. Gabriel wrote it during a turning point in his own life, as he stepped away from Genesis to discover who he was on his own. Peter Gabriel was a favorite of ours; we saw him live twice, and Anne had seen him a couple more times before we met.

The Celebration of Life slideshow video began with an excerpt from a readaloud video Anne had made for her students in the early days of Covid. It ended with a clip from a Paul McCartney concert where Anne can be heard singing along to Hey Jude. It ran just under 15 minutes.

Last month, I created a more concise slideshow to share with my grief group, aiming for something around five minutes. This time, I went back to “Do You Realize??.” Anne would appreciate me giving it a callout today, to honor the wonderful times — and the music — we shared.

As I said, it’s a song that acknowledges life’s finitude while also observing that many of life’s events offer multiple perspectives. Revisiting the song today, I appreciate its reminder to notice the beauty in the time we’re given and value the people we hold dear.

Click to play slideshow or visit:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1zonag1l7GDBSebksXCxgenhbitef-3pp/view?usp=sharing

Eight years ago, I made a Spotify playlist for our joint 50th birthday, with a song from each year we’d been alive. Looking back at it now, I’m struck by this cluster of four tracks that sit together:

“Do You Realize??” – The Flaming Lips (2002)
“Transatlanticism” – Death Cab for Cutie (2003)
“Somewhere Only We Know” – Keane (2004)
“Always Love” – Nada Surf (2005)

Seeing them grouped now, I note related themes: songs about connection, longing, and focusing on what matters. They weren’t chosen with any theme in mind at the time. Not consciously, at least. Listening to them now, they remind me how songs take on new meaning as life unfolds.

Resolve

A year ago, I didn’t know how I would manage the days and months ahead without Anne. I tried to stay aware of how I was feeling and make good decisions, but everything felt uncertain and often overwhelming. As 2026 arrived, I began to have more good days with the occasional setback.

These last ten days, the anniversary of Anne’s stay in the hospital, have been difficult. They’ve brought her absence back to the surface. Part of that comes from choosing to write about it so openly, but I have no regrets about that. It felt like the right and natural thing for me to do.

Now that the day is here, if I’m being honest, I’m looking forward to tomorrow — to having the first full year without Anne behind me. I will always love her, and I’m learning that for my own mental well‑being, it’s better to look ahead more than behind.

Kate and I are finding our way. We lean on each other, on family, and on friends. We’re still healing, and we still have hard days, but we’re okay, and we’re beginning to make plans for the future.

Thank you for your support, and for reading my words over these past months. Because this blog has been a place of love for Anne, it felt right to use it to share my feelings throughout the year. Writing has helped me process my grief, and I hope reading these posts offered something meaningful to you as well.

Anne will always be in our hearts, and I know she will always be in yours too.
– Brent and Kate

Notable links

How we met (Cat juggling and gasoline fights)
How we got engaged and Anne’s Favorite Day proposal book
Our wedding and anniversary
Stories about Anne
Anne remembered in The Seattle Times
Anne remembered in UW Magazine
Anne remembered on KEXP (“Transatlanticism”. Thank you, John Richards)
Anne’s Celebration of Life and Slideshow (15min)
Anneisms (on her birthday)
Loving Anne (songs from the blog) (Spotify)
Anne’s favorite songs (Spotify)

Invisible thread

Three weeks after Anne died, one of my favorite artists, Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy, released a music video for a song from his upcoming album. The song, Invisible Thread, is about the bond between a father and his daughter — a connection that persists even when she leaves home, and even after he’s gone.

Given the timing, it hit me squarely in the heart, and I teared up watching it. I’ve always been an easy target for anything a bit schmaltzy; if a filmmaker or songwriter is trying to tug at the audience’s emotions, I’m usually the first one to willingly fall for it. This gorgeous mini-movie was no exception.

“This is not goodbye. There will always be an invisible thread between you and me”

Charmed life

Anne loved several of The Divine Comedy songs I’d played for her early in our relationship, including Charmed Life. That one has a little story behind it.

About a year into our relationship, we kicked around the idea of writing a movie script — or at least a treatment — just for fun. I was listening to Charmed Life a lot at the time, and Anne liked it too, so I floated a premise inspired a bit by the song.

The idea was set partly in an apartment building. A couple in their mid‑30s (our age then) wonders about one of the longtime residents — an older man who keeps to himself. One day he dies or disappears, and the couple receives a note with a key to his apartment. Inside, they piece together the extraordinary life he actually led, which sends them on their own adventure.

We never wrote it. Maybe Kate and I will take a crack at it someday.

Revisiting the lyrics recently, I realized Charmed Life is also about fatherhood. Neil wrote it when his daughter was around two, reflecting on his successes and failures and hoping she’d one day find her life was “charmed” too. That discovery gave it another layer of personal relevance.

Picture day

I’m not sure why I didn’t do this sooner, but a couple days ago I called Dorian Studio, photographers for Bryant Elementary, and asked if they had pictures of Anne. The Bryant faculty have their photos taken each year, just like the students. Dorian Studio graciously provided me with several wonderful photos. Here are four standouts. I miss my lovely wife.

I’m dedicating this post to our wonderful daughter, Kate, who carries so much of Anne in her.
Love you, Kate.

A year ago today, on a Monday, I woke up at 6:15 — or more accurately, our cats Jonesy and Emmy woke me, requesting breakfast. I fed them and made cappuccinos for Anne and me in our London and Paris cups. Before heading out for work, we talked briefly about dinner plans. Kate was away at Camp Colman, so it was just the two of us. I told Anne I loved her as I walked out the door. It was an ordinary morning.

It was also the last conversation I would ever have with her.

At 3:30 that afternoon, as I was finishing a meeting, I received a call from a number labeled “Medical Services.” It was Harborview telling me Anne had been in a serious accident and had severe head trauma. She was in the emergency room, and they were trying to stabilize her and understand the full extent of her injuries. 

I left work immediately for Harborview and didn’t return home until the following evening. By then, I understood just how grave her condition was — and that the Anne I knew, that we all knew, was likely gone.

Today, on the anniversary of the accident, the memories of those ten days have come back into view, though I’m trying not to dwell on them too much. I’ve had a year to learn how to live with this, yet there are still days when the tears have to flow. I’ll have more to say on August 14, the anniversary of Anne’s passing. For now, I want to convey how much I appreciated the love and support that came so quickly in those first days and over the months that followed. It helped.

A collective hug to everyone who knew her, loved her, and misses her.

Two weeks back was our anniversary. Today, it’s Anne’s birthday. I think we can all agree that “Happy Birthday” doesn’t sound right. But it’s still a day to remember Anne and celebrate the joy and laughs she brought into our lives.

This photo is from the trivia game we MC’d at our joint 50th birthday party, held in the courtyard by the North Shore Lagoon swimming pool at McMenamins’ Anderson School in Bothell. It was a great spot to celebrate fifty years on this big blue marble. The kids swam while the adults made merry. It was one of those gatherings that felt a little like our wedding — full of people we loved from both sides of our lives.

To elevate the mood, here are some “Anneisms” — expressions she loved and used over the years. If you knew her, you probably heard her use a few of these:

“Too late, lady.”

In her younger years, Anne visited an amusement park with friends. They convinced her to try one of those tall tower rides that hoists you up and drops you. She agreed, reluctantly. Once everyone was buckled in at ground level, Anne’s nerves took over and she called out to the ride operator that she couldn’t do it and wanted off. He looked at her and as he pushed the start button, he said “Too late, lady.” Up she went. She survived, of course — and gained a catchphrase to use for the rest of her life.

“Cut it!”

Months into our relationship, we took a “train” trip to Vancouver with friends Bonnie and Mike. The train line was down, so Amtrak was running busses northbound instead. A mother with a crying baby sat a few rows up, and behind us was a disheveled man who seemed… let’s say “over-served.” The baby continued to cry on and off for the majority of the trip. After a while, clearly irritated, the man suddenly barked “Cut it!” loudly for the entire bus to hear. Boom — Anne had another catchphrase, perfect for any loud or irritating sound.

“I want that”

In the movie Napoleon Dynamite, Uncle Rico tries to sell Tupperware door-to-door. He’s sitting across the table from a couple and pulls out an incentive prize: a triple‑masted ship model. The woman leans toward her husband and drawls, “I want that.” Anytime Anne spotted something tacky, absurd, or delightfully unnecessary, she’d repeat that line in the same drawl. YouTube clip

“That’s what she said.”

If you watched The Office, you know this one. Anne and Michael Scott shared the same fondness for turning innocent phrases into innuendo.
“I thought it would be bigger.” → “That’s what she said!”
“I think it’s stuck.” → “That’s what she said!”
I can hear Anne saying it now and cracking everyone up!

“D’oh!”

Like many Gen Xers our age, Anne and I were big fans of The Simpsons’ early seasons. Anne loved Homer’s catchphrase expression of exasperation and used it frequently.

“I could eat Dick’s all night.”

This was more a favorite story than a catchphrase. Early in Anne’s career as a middle school language arts teacher, a class discussion turned to favorite foods. One boy enthusiastically declared, “I really like Dick’s. I could eat Dick’s all night.” The class erupted. Anne barely held it together and it became a favorite anecdote. (For anyone outside Seattle, Dick’s is a popular burger joint that first opened in the Wallingford neighborhood in 1954.)

“Baaaaaa!”

Anne was always cracking jokes, and sometimes she’d “prime the pump” for laughter. Right after delivering her joke line, she’d exclaim “Baaaaaa!” — her way of underlining the punchline and nudging everyone into laughter.

Love you always, Annie. -Brent

When you lose someone you love, the year ahead becomes a series of firsts without them — first holidays, first birthdays, and so on. I’ve already gone through many of these without Anne, but today brings another one. And it’s a big one. Today would have been our 21st wedding anniversary.

Last year on June 25th, Anne and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in Bologna, Italy. It was the second stop on our 17‑day family vacation through Italy, Switzerland, and The Netherlands. We had arrived in Bologna the day before, and within an hour of dropping our bags, we went out in search of tagliatelle al ragù for lunch. (What we Americans might call “Bolognese”). Later that evening, we watched Terry Gilliam present a new cut of Brazil at Il Cinema Ritrovato, the free outdoor film festival happening in the main piazza next to our hotel.

On the day of our 20th anniversary — our only full day in Bologna — we set off for nearby Modena and then took a shuttle to Maranello to visit the Ferrari Museum. Kate had lobbied for this particular stop, being a devoted F1 fan, and it turned out to be a lot of fun. The Ferrari museum was delightful, filled with gorgeous cars from every era, including several Formula 1 cars.

Back in Bologna that afternoon, we asked our hotel to recommend a good spot for our anniversary dinner. They suggested Franco Rossi, an upscale restaurant not too far away. We arrived unfashionably early at 7 PM and were the only ones seated, though we could hear a lively party downstairs in the private dining room.

Kate was with us, of course, and it was a lovely place to celebrate 20 wonderful years of marriage. I remember ordering a hazelnut encrusted fish, while Kate and Anne both ordered pasta. Kate snapped a picture of us to commemorate the day. By the time we finished dessert and paid the check, the restaurant was full and buzzing. It was a fun day to celebrate two decades together.

Most years though, our wedding anniversary happened a lot closer to home. We often celebrated at El Gaucho, a wonderful steakhouse in Seattle’s Belltown neighborhood. I can easily find photos of four recent anniversaries we spent there (see slideshow). Those nights were even better when our favorite waiter, Mok, was working.

More than once in my anniversary card to Anne, I would write that marrying her was the best decision I ever made. Anne was truly a wonderful partner and my best friend. We dated for 2 years before I asked her to marry me. You can view a few more wedding photos, read about how we met, how I proposed, and watch me read Anne’s Favorite Day, the little proposal book I made.

There are a couple more firsts still ahead for me. Anne’s birthday is on July 8, and then in August, the anniversary of her passing. I’ll have a little more to say then. With all that said, Kate and I are doing okay. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’re finding joy where we can. 

I find getting out of the house for a long daily walk is really good for me. Anne and I had a five‑mile round‑trip walk we loved to do from our place. I still walk it often, but instead of chatting with Anne, I’m usually listening to an audiobook now, often a music biography or a classic novel. Right now, it’s George Orwell’s “1984”. I’ve come to really enjoy walking and listening.

I try to think about the future as an unwritten adventure. I’m not sure how it will unfold, but I’m optimistic that fun and interesting times are still ahead. Kate has one more year of high school before heading off to college and beyond. There’s a lot of change on the horizon, and I’m learning to embrace it.

…

A couple of months after Anne died, my co‑worker Scott shared a book passage with me. It’s from Of Time and Lamentation: Reflections on Transience by Raymond Tallis, who is a physician, poet, and philosopher. Scott’s dad had been reading this heady book before he died and had underlined this passage:

It has often been said that philosophy should teach one how to die. As a doctor, I have seen enough of dying to be aware of the distance of most philosophical thought from the final phase of our return to the earth which has supported our singular existence. Nevertheless, I do believe we should use the idea of death to enhance our sense of life and its mystery. Life at its most abundant is life lived in full consciousness of its finitude, in luminous awareness that our hands will grasp and our eyes will see and our hearts will beat for only a while. The art of living is also the art of outliving: to get over those who have “gone before” without becoming shallow. A meditation on time – on the mystery of the past we shared with them, the passage of time that took us past them, the future that seems to lie like a buffer between this moment and death – is an appropriate kind of memento mori, a way of getting closer to the unthinkable.

So what do I think of this passage? It’s dense and poetic and it gives me comfort. Maybe it’s helping me accept loss and find a way to live with it while still moving forward. At its core, it’s simply saying, “Make the best of whatever time you have.” Whether someone has lost a close loved one or not, that’s sound advice.

Kate and I have started planning a return to Europe for the summer after she graduates. Like Anne, Kate has developed a real fondness for Italy, so we’ll probably spend most of our time there — but who knows? It’s still early yet. We’ll see how things unfold.

Love to all of you. I have another post planned for Anne’s birthday on July 8 – Anneisms!

Brent and Kate

Exactly six months ago, on August 4th, I was at work in a meeting room. I had just finished an online meeting when my phone rang. The caller was listed as “Healthcare”. I answered it. On the other end was UW Harborview Emergency Room. They informed me that Anne had been in a serious accident and had a severe brain injury. You all know the rest. Anne died 10 days later on August 14th.

It’s still hard to believe that Anne is gone. Kate and I have mostly come to terms with it at this point. We don’t have much choice. But it still feels so wrong. And so unfair. Kate and I wanted so much more time with Anne. We still had lots of future plans – places we wanted to visit, things we wanted to do together. We will love Anne forever. She’ll always be with me in my heart. And in Kate’s.

Here is what I read at Anne’s Celebration of Life on Saturday, October 18th, 2025

. . .

Thank you all for coming this afternoon to celebrate the life of a truly wonderful person. Anne was the love of my life and an incredible mom to our daughter Kate. I treasure the life we built together and I miss her every single day. Seeing so many of you here — friends, Bryant staff, PTSA members, volunteers, and our dear host Lisa — reminds me of the incredible community Anne was part of. Your presence and support mean the world to Kate and me, and I’m deeply grateful to everyone who made this gathering possible.

I’d like to start off with a couple quotes that Anne was fond of and used often. You might have even heard her say one of these. The first one is:

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”

That quote is sometimes attributed to Dr. Seuss but there is some dispute whether he actually ever said or wrote that. Regardless, it reflects the kind of gratitude Anne lived by and I loved her for that. But to be honest, I’ve cried buckets over losing Anne so for me, it’s not the most fitting quote for this occasion.

The next quote Anne was fond of has a much clearer attribution and I can really get behind it. It goes like this:

“I didn’t think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows”

That one is from Bart Simpson and demonstrates the breadth of Anne’s humor but it also pretty well captures how I’ve felt these past two months. Anne’s absence has left a huge void in our lives. I miss my best friend, my morning coffee partner, my sous chef, my co-pilot, my bananagrams opponent, my comedienne and my confidante. 

As many of you know, Anne and I met 23 years ago on Match.com. Hers was one of the few profiles without a photo, but what it did have was smart, funny prose about being a 34 year old woman hoping to find love. I wrote to compliment her sense of humor and ask about some of the movie references in her profile. Emails led to phone calls, which led to a first date—then 2 years of dating, and 20 wonderful years of marriage. I realized it then, and have only become more convinced of it as the years went by…I got pretty lucky when I met Anne.

From our first communication, it was obvious that Anne had a great sense of humor and our conversations were effortless. She was incredibly easy to talk to. That’s something I would observe in her over the many years of our relationship…the ease she had in meeting someone, subconsciously sizing them up, and knowing exactly the right way to engage that person, creating an ally in the process. She did that with kids and adults alike. Anne had a tremendous amount of empathy as part of her makeup. Combine that with her humor and a great laugh, and you had a winning combination.

I so enjoyed building my life with Anne, going on many adventures, and eventually starting a family when we welcomed our daughter Kate. With the qualities I’ve already mentioned and with her educator background going back to her mother, you can understand why Anne was such a great mom. I feel truly blessed that our daughter Kate had 16 and half years with Anne. Anne instilled so many core values in her—sometimes directly, sometimes just by example. And I love the young woman that Kate has become.

As much as we bonded over movies, we also bonded over music. We shared plenty of common music interests including The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and The Cure, and together we attended many wonderful shows including Flaming Lips with Beck, Peter Gabriel, David Bowie, Paul McCartney, and Elvis Costello. One of my favorite music memories was spending three hours with Anne in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London at the Pink Floyd exhibit. Just two days before her accident, we had gone to the Death Cab for Cutie concert at Climate Pledge Arena. At dinner before the show, Anne reminded me that I’d introduced her to that band early in our dating days.

Anne introduced me to a lot of things as well including This American Life with host and writer Ira Glass and also to writer humorist David Sedaris. We probably saw David Sedaris read at Benaroya Hall at least half a dozen times if not more. He would often use these readings to test out new life stories that would go into an upcoming book. I still remember one night when David was recounting buying a beach house with his partner Hugh. He remarked that all of the beach houses had names already, most of which were bad puns, often with a nautical theme. But he was determined that their new house would be different. They decided to name it “Sea Section”. That line got a loud hearty laugh from Anne…something I never got tired of hearing.

One of the things I’ll miss the most about Anne are the wonderful vacations we took, whether it was a road trip to Sunriver Oregon and then on to Cannon Beach, or one of our trips to Europe. Our first big trip together was our honeymoon to Italy. We fell in love with each new city or hilltown we visited. Even our chaotic attempt to return a rental car in Rome became one of our favorite stories to retell. A few months ago, we returned to Italy, and visited Switzerland and Amsterdam for the first time. Anne and Kate are wonderful travel partners and I’m so grateful we got to take that trip together.

Another thing I have to mention are the wonderful human beings that came along with Anne as part of the package…Bonnie, Julia, Ryan, Craig, Trevor, Lisa, Corey…and so many more. Some were coworkers who became lifelong friends, some were friends she met on the way. And of course one of Anne’s closest relationships was with her dear sister Lisa. Anne knew how to nurture a friendship like no one else. I hope to carry those friendships long into the future.

Two days after the accident, I was talking to my mom one morning and she shared some thoughts that were going through her head while she couldn’t sleep…aphorisms that might be helpful for me to keep in mind. One in particular stood out…

”What would Anne do?”

Well, let’s think about it. Anne approached most problems with curiosity, reason, empathy, determination, and yes, humor. “What would Anne do?” I’ve gone back to that many times, trying to use it as a guiding principle in getting through this and making good choices. 

When Anne was in the hospital, I said in my blog that I was trying to balance my despair with gratitude. That’s something Anne often talked about….gratitude…especially when things are hard. Well, things are pretty trying right now and my heart is broken, but here’s my gratitude. I got to spend 23 wonderful years with an incredible woman and call her my wife. And Kate got to spend 16 years with an exceptional mother and role model. Anne is inside me, inside Kate, and inside everyone she touched. She became part of our stories — and we’ll carry her with us always. 

I love you Annie and I always will.

A short story about Anne titled “The Power of One” appeared in the December issue of University of Washington Magazine.

Read “The Power of One” here

Note: The article says Anne was a “married mother of two” but I am 99.999% sure she only had one kid.

Today, November 13, 2025, is KEXP’s annual “Music Heals” day honoring the pain of loss and the bittersweet joy of remembering. A few weeks ago, just after Anne’s Celebration of Life, I submitted a request for today for “Transatlanticism” by Death Cab For Cutie along with an accompanying story.

Today, John Richards played it just before 8:00AM. My sister-in-law Rose, who herself is battling cancer, happened to be driving her short commute to work when it came on. She pulled over and recorded it. Just now, I pulled a better quality version from the KEXP streaming archive and made a video (below).

Here’s the full story I submitted:

“I celebrated 20 years of marriage with my wife Anne last June while travelling in Europe. In early August, we attended the Death Cab for Cutie concert at Climate Pledge Arena. Two days later, Anne was struck by a car while crossing the street, suffering severe brain trauma.

Two days after the accident, while at her side in the hospital, I wrote a blog post referencing Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie. It was the first song my daughter requested by name as a 2 year old, except she called it “So Much Closer”. In the hospital, I remarked that the line “I need you so much closer” really hit hard. Anne was in a coma from which she would never emerge. She died 10 days later.

In addition to being a vibrant and loving wife and wonderful mother to our 16 year old daughter Kate, Anne was an incredible educator at Seattle schools, first as a middle school language arts teacher, and then for the past 15 years as the teacher librarian at Bryant Elementary in Northeast Seattle. To say she had impact is an understatement. She instilled a love of reading in hundreds and hundreds of kids, usually with a healthy dose of humor and pizazz. Well over 400 people attended her Celebration of Life at Bryant Elementary in October, including the mayor of Seattle who read a proclamation honoring her. Her sense of humor and giving nature were recurring themes.

I will love Anne always and miss her every single day. I take comfort knowing that part of her lives on inside each person she touched along the way.”

Anne and I at the Death Cab for Cutie concert, two days before the accident.

Last Saturday was the Celebration of Life for my wonderful wife Anne who died on August 14. We held it at Bryant Elementary, the school she taught at for 15 years as teacher librarian. The school auditorium/gym was the perfect location. We needed the space since over 400 people attended to celebrate Anne’s life. She touched a lot of hearts and minds. Co-workers, students, family, and friends paid tribute to Anne’s generous heart, can do attitude, and sense of humor (a recurring theme).

A special thanks to all of the Bryant staff and volunteers that helped plan and create the event. Many people contributed their time and made the event truly special. And a big thanks to Lisa Watkins-Scott who officiated the ceremony and to all of the people that shared heartfelt stories about what Anne meant to them. Another big thanks to Lynn, Steve, and Jesse for the wonderful singalong “Annie’s Song”. It was perfect.

Seattle Mayor Bruce Harrell attended and read a beautiful proclamation officially recognizing October 18, 2025 as Anne Aliverti Day. It will be recorded that way in Seattle’s records. Scroll down for the full text.

A few relevant links:

• 14-minute movie slideshow (contact me via e-mail or Facebook)
• Online memory board (Kudoboard) (contact me via e-mail or Facebook)
• PageAhead.org supports children’s literacy. If you feel inclined, you can make a donation in Anne’s honor.

Kate and I are doing okay but we miss Anne very much. The weight of planning the event has been lifted, but the sadness of losing Anne remains. I’ve read that grief is not linear and comes in waves. I’m feeling that firsthand as it has hit me hard this week many times. I miss my wife and best friend and Kate misses her mom. Time will help most likely, but it’s going to be a slow process.

Thank you all for your support. I wish you all the best. Here are some photos from the day including the program, table displays, the mayor reading his proclamation, the musical performance, and artwork the students created.

Here is the full text of the Mayor’s proclamation:

City of Seattle • Office of the Mayor
PROCLAMATION

WHEREAS, Anne Aliverti dedicated 15 years of service as the beloved librarian at Bryant Elementary School, transforming the school library into a vibrant hub of imagination, learning, and connection for students, families, and educators alike; and

WHEREAS, Anne Aliverti inspired generations of young readers by fostering a deep love of books and storytelling, always greeting students by name, designing creative reading challenges, and ensuring that every child felt seen, valued, and encouraged to explore the world through reading; and

WHEREAS, under Anne Aliverti’s leadership, the Bryant Elementary library became one of the highest-circulating libraries in Seattle Public Schools, reflecting her commitment to literacy access, equity, and the joy of discovery; and

WHEREAS, beyond her role as a librarian, Anne Aliverti was a mentor, collaborator, and community builder – supporting fellow educators, leading professional development, and strengthening connections between families, schools, and the broader Seattle community; and

WHEREAS, Anne Aliverti’s enduring legacy lives on in the countless students whose lives she enriched, the colleagues she inspired, and the community she helped shape through her compassion, creativity, and commitment to learning; and

WHEREAS, the City of Seattle honors Anne Aliverti’s extraordinary contributions as an educator, librarian, and community leader – whose commitment to curiosity, creativity, and student-centered learning exemplifies the power of education – exemplifying our One Seattle vision.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BRUCE A. HARRELL, MAYOR OF SEATTLE, DO HEREBY PROCLAIM OCTOBER 18, 2025 TO BE
Anne Aliverti Day

Mayor Bruce A. Harrell
City of Seattle

We will celebrate Anne’s life on Saturday, October 18 at 1PM

Bryant Elementary
3311 NE 60th St, Seattle, 98115

Event begins at 1:00PM. Doors will be open by 12:30PM, likely earlier. More details:

Parking
Bryant Elementary has no parking lot. There is street parking in the surrounding neighborhoods, but you will have to walk a block or two.

Attire
This is a celebration, not a funeral—so all-black is out unless that’s your usual style. Instead, think dressy casual and/or fall colors.

Cookies Potluck 
Families are invited to contribute to a Cookie Potluck following the Celebration of Life. You may drop off 1-2 dozen cookies outside under the covered play area before the event begins.

Literacy donation in Anne’s Honor
PageAhead.org supports children’s literacy. If you feel inclined, you can make a donation in Anne’s honor.

Share a Memory of Anne
An online memory board guest book will be available at the event where you can post a memory or message.

Flowers
Please don’t bring or send flowers. In lieu of that, consider a donation (above).

We will celebrate Anne’s life on Saturday, October 18 at 1PM

Bryant Elementary
3311 NE 60th St, Seattle, 98115

Please join us if you can

Claire Bryan, education reporter for The Seattle Times, wrote a lovely story about Anne. I believe it will appear in Monday’s print edition, but it is up now. Thank you so much, Claire. And thank you to all that participated in the article.

https://www.seattletimes.com/education-lab/seattle-school-librarian-leaves-a-lasting-legacy/

Read more stories about Anne here (in the comments), or share your own. 50 and counting.

SAVE THE DATE:
We will honor Anne’s life on Saturday, October 18th from 1-3PM at Bryant Elementary Auditorium.

Anne passed away on Thursday afternoon Aug 14 2025, 10 days after getting struck by a car in the crosswalk. It’s been the hardest and most painful 10 days for Kate and I, and grieving will continue for us, our family, her colleagues and community. Anne was a bright light with a huge community that loved her. She was an incredible wife and mother to our daughter and I still can’t believe she is gone.

Feel free to continue to leave comments here in the Loving Anne blog, and/or reach out to our family directly. If you haven’t already, Share your Story of Anne (50 and counting).

Please allow time for grieving and making sense of something so senseless and preventable.
Thank you for your support.

A celebration of Anne’s life will be held in on Saturday, October 18th from 1-3PM at Bryant Elementary Auditorium.

Brent

Read also how Anne and I met, got engaged, and married

Edit Aug 21: A coworker snapped a picture outside Bryant Elementary

A few years ago, I started digitizing some photos from our childhoods and young adult years. I still have several more of Anne to do at some point, but these will do for today. She was a cute kid!

Anne and I got married on June 25, 2005 at Trilogy, a parklike retirement community east of Redmond. The sun was out, and our friends and family gathered to watch us devote ourselves to each other. Anne’s friend Lisa (Watkins) Scott did a wonderful job officiating our wedding. Erin made a fun illustrated book of our story, one for each guest. Bonnie made our topsy-turvy wedding cake which matched the orange sash of Anne’s wedding dress. And Anne…she was stunning! It was a wonderful ceremony and reception…a real celebration. Songs played that evening included “At Last” by Etta James, “Follow You, Follow Me” by Genesis, and “Magic” by Olivia Newton John.

That night, Anne and I stayed at The Woodmark hotel in Kirkland. The next day, our first full day as a married couple, we called up Trevor and went to see Batman Begins. Anne still has the ticket stub.

Recently, we celebrated our 20th anniversary anniversary while on vacation in Europe. That particular night, we were in Bologna, Italy and went out to celebrate with a special dinner. Kate took our picture (above).

About last night’s status update: I forgot to list songs played for Anne yesterday. They included “More Than a Woman” by The Bee Gees and “Got to Get You Into My Life” by The Beatles.

Some photos from our wedding:

Dear friends of Anne,

Many of you know Anne through her years as a teacher, librarian, or star mentor. Some know her as a neighbor, roommate, or friend. She has touched countless lives. I would love for you to share a memory of Anne. It could be a story of how you met, a moment that stands out, something that made you laugh, or what makes her special to you. No memory is too small or simple.

Please share your story in the comments for this blog post, and include your name so we can know who you are. I will read your comments to Anne.

Thank you for helping us celebrate Anne’s impact on so many lives.

[Note about the blog. When you receive a new post in e-mail, it may not include the related photo. Click the title of the post or the “Read on blog” link to see the post as intended. That is where you can read any comments that are left as well.]