In Memory Of Annette R. Moore

Annette R. Moore was more than a boss to me — she became a lifeline, a mentor, and a piece of my family when I needed one most. I met her back in 2017 after she put an ad in the high school paper looking for someone to help around the house. I answered it not knowing that this decision would change my life.

Working for Annette started as a simple job, but it quickly became something deeper. During a time when I was struggling at home and eventually kicked out, Annette offered me an olive branch. She opened her door, her home, and her heart, giving me a place to stay while I tried to patch things up with my parents. Living with her let me see the real Annette — the caring woman, the loving soul, the tough teacher who wasn’t afraid to show me right from wrong. She gave me space when I needed it, love when I lacked it, and guidance when I didn’t know where to turn.

I respected her deeply, and she deserved every bit of that respect.

While living with her, I got to meet her family — a family filled with the same warmth she carried. She shared stories, and I shared mine. She donated generously to causes she believed in. She loved fiercely. And she missed her dear friend Tom, who had passed away. Even in her grief, she carried herself with grace.

One of my favorite memories was her 80th birthday. Her whole family came together to celebrate her milestone, and I was honored to be there. I still laugh thinking about her son who decided it was the perfect day to get me drunk — Annette laughed right along with us, enjoying every moment.

We kept in touch over the years. Whenever she called her kids, she ended every conversation with a loud, joyful “I love you!” followed by a kiss into the phone. That was Annette — overflowing with affection, never holding back her love.

She gave me a nickname: Spook. I never knew exactly why, but I’m pretty sure it was because I was quiet and accidentally scared her more than once. The name stuck, and honestly, it still fits me today.

Her favorite treat was root beer barrels from the candy store. She didn’t get out much, so bringing those to her became our little tradition. I regret never taking her on the train ride she always wanted — but now, I like to think she’s riding a train in heaven, smiling out the window.

I regret not seeing her one last time, but I know where she is now. Annette loved the Lord. She blessed her food, blessed her days, and lived with gratitude. She’s with her Savior, and she’s at peace.

Annette was joy. She was generosity. She was love. She was family.
I’m proud to have known her.

I’m proud to have been part of her life. And I will never forget her.

January 19, 1938 - September 15, 2026