Ann Harper Buckley

November 27, 2018

Passed peacefully November 27, 2018, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, Ann Elizabeth Francis Harper Buckley-aged 85 years. Ann was born in Hartford, CT and raised in Springfield, MA. She was married on April 24, 1954 to Brady Buckley Jr. Together, they had a happy, adventuresome marriage that was filled with love. They raised their four children and experienced life in many beautiful parts of the United States. Ann and Brady were partners both at home and in business. She worked quietly, and sometimes not so quietly, in the background to support the pursuits of her husband and children. She worked side by side with Brady as entrepreneurs, together running a successful company in upstate New York. Ann and Brady lived life in unison, and enjoyed many of the same interests, and just being together with their children. And, even when presented with an activity that she was not necessarily keen on, she always gave it a try. One such example would be skiing. Her husband being an avid sportsman and a skilled skier, she did try her absolute best, even if she never did make it off the bunny slope. Following retirement, Ann and Brady moved to Tucson, Arizona but they certainly did not slow down. It was there they discovered the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. They both volunteered as docents for several years. She loved the connection it provided to nature and to meeting new people and fondly recalled those days as some of the happiest and rewarding. Ann was a master in the kitchen. She created and served dishes that could not be replicated by mere mortals, and anyone who loved her can recall with descriptive detail a meal they shared with her. A voracious learner, Ann loved a good book, the Wall Street Journal and a lively conversation. Most recently, she started to write about her life after completing a creative writing course with a group of her friends. She was a gifted storyteller, and her family will cherish the stories that she was able to record. She was genuinely curious about life and wanted to learn something about each person she met. She gave people the kind of attention that is so often overlooked in life. She asked questions about your life that so many others don't take the time to find out. It was through those questions that she was able to find commonality with people and remind us all that we are all connected in some small way and should behave accordingly. She was a devoted wife, mother and grandmother, and a loyal and trusted friend. If our time on earth is measured by moments that we love, Ann finished her life with a large crescendo. In the last few years, she cared for her husband and navigated the long goodbye of dementia. And, although she never really recognized all that she did, she walked with him through those challenges with such grace, giving him time, love, patience and dignity. Predeceased by her husband Brady on September 18, 2018, they have now been reunited, free from the challenges of failing health, together once more to continue their great love story. Surviving are two daughters, Leigh Kleinert and Elizabeth Randall (Doug); two sons, Brady (Kelly) and David (Stephanie); and grandchildren, Kate Kleinert, Eric Kleinert, Sarah Randall, Brendan Bishop, Matthew Buckley and Jack Buckley. She also leaves to mourn a wide circle of friends and family. Service to be held in Sandwich, MA at a later date. Arrangements made by Wolfe Funeral Home, Rock Hill, SC. The family would like to thank the staff at The Blake for their support and kindness, as well as the ER and ICU staff at CMC-Pineville for their compassionate and exceptional care. Gone From My Sight By: Henry Van Dyke I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone." Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me -- not in her. And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"