Mary “Annie” Anne Krejci

June 11, 1929 - January 9, 2016
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Mary A. “Annie” Krejci, age 86 of Hambden Twp. passed away Jan. 9, 2016 at Mapleview Country Villa in Chardon. Born June 11, 1929 in Cleveland to George and Julia Steffancin, she had been a longtime area resident. Annie was a talented artist; enjoying watercolor, pastel, oil and charcoal, but her greatest joy was sketching.Continue Reading

Lu Ann Smith Burger left a message on February 3, 2016:
Bev and family, My sincere sympathies on the loss of your mom. I have fond memories of spending time in your home as we grew up in Hambden.
Michael & Carole Schauer left a message on January 15, 2016:
We light a candle to carry on your journey, but we know that the light that shined within you is all you ever needed.... Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. You will be forever in our hearts Happy Trails to you, until we meet again. We love you Mom
Michael & Carole Schauer left a message on January 15, 2016:
Dear Mom, Michael and I have always been sad over the fact that we are, and always have been so far away, and devastated that our plans to come visit you this spring did not turn out as planned. But although the miles and other obstacles separated us these past forty-some years, you and I both knew that all we had to do was to open a book or watch Sound of Music for the 100th time, or an old Randy Scott movie, and we would see each other there. From the time I was little, you were always my “creative” inspiration. Reading to us from books and newspapers every morning at the breakfast table, the annual trips to the museums, and singing along with all those movie musicals, you instilled in me, a love for Art, for History, for Literature and Music. I remember you saying that you were determined to show us all the art and culture that you loved, and yes, “that”, you did accomplish. But, even back then, you knew, that you and I were more alike than anyone wanted to admit, and probably least of all, me. But, you were determined to help me find, what you had lost, which I did, when you allowed me to run off by myself at the museums or disappear into the woods for hours. Through all your efforts of driving me to dance class, tutors, band practice, gymnastics Bluebird and 4-H meetings, in that old Hudson, or to guitar lessons - on the back of your motorcycle, guitar slung over my shoulder… and the effort and love that you put into that beautiful western shirt you sewed by hand, for me, for the county fair. How you managed to do all that on your budget, I’ll never know. At first, I used to wonder if you were trying to overcompensate for all the “other” things, but then I realized that in your insight and wisdom, you knew then, what I know now, what I came to understand over the years, from your rambling letters and those little scraps of paper, and newspaper clippings. I remember that one phone call, many years ago, when we were finally able to laugh about it. That in many ways, the “reason” it was, let’s just say “difficult” for me, was because you and I were so much alike, perhaps too much. We colored outside the lines, and had a deep appreciation for the same things. We loved to paint and draw, and write stories… We had a passion for history and enjoyed spending “hours” walking through museums and of course…cowboys. Yes, we understood each other more than anyone, and I understood your passion for wanting to do something with all that, because I did too. But back then, I just didn’t know it yet. Although you weren’t able to contact me for all those many years, you were never far away from my thoughts. I wrote you a thousand letters, most which, I never mailed because I knew you wouldn’t get them. But, through the few letters and packages you were able to smuggle out, you encouraged me, no, more like demanded, to never let them wear me down, to never give up …. and I never did. And when you could sneak to a payphone, or a friends house to call me, it was so nice to hear your voice, and that gave me the chance to say the many Thank You’s for all those museum trips and for the time we set up our canvases side by side and to say sorry for locking myself in the bathroom at my dance recital. I remember, oh my, how we both laughed at that. Opening your packages and letters was like an archeologist’s journey, with stacks of 2-sided typewritten pages, the type running off the edges. The hastily scribbled stories of family history, short updates of your adventures and just enough family gossip to make it fun. There were always newspaper clippings, torn magazine pages and rich tales of your travels and the colorful stories of people that touched your life along the way. Yes, I saved every newspaper clipping and the many articles torn from magazines about castles and gallant knights, faries and unicorns, old time cowboys and far away places… to add to “my own collection of clippings”…. Yes, “you” knew me well. Those letters and clippings became the quilt of your life for me, and when we were finally allowed to reconnect, all the anger from missing out on all the years melted away. It was like no time at all had passed. We crammed forty years of stories into short fifteen minute conversations. We laughed, we cried, we disagreed about our memories of things, but you and I, well, we understood each other, we were too much alike, you and me. My sorrow and grief is not for you, in some ways, I envy you, for your sorrows have been turned to joy, and I know that you are with our Lord, sitting in some grassy field with paintbrush and canvas, surrounded by little children… but my grief is for me, because the universe robbed from both of us, of all those years. All the Mother-daughter arguments we “should” have had, all the laughter and joy celebrating a milestone we “could have” shared, and all the times when I needed my mother’s shoulder to cry on, or to talk to you about things only “my mother” would understand. I will miss your packages filled with the books you read and enjoyed, with those little notes tucked between the pages or scribbled in the margins. I will miss your hastily drawn sketches scribbled on scraps of paper and on the back of greeting cards. I will miss your letters filled with stories of your childhood and tales of adventure, and I will miss the envelopes stuffed with clippings, that some are still a puzzle trying to figure out why you sent it and what message you were trying to get across. But, whenever thoughts of missing you cross my mind, and the sadness and sorrow fills my eyes, just as I have done during those forty-some years before, I will bring out your box of letters, and you and I will be together, and we will laugh and cry and argue and share our passions for Art, History, literature and Music, and old Randy Scott Movies… and of course, cowboys…So Happy Trails Mom… until we meet again. I love you Mom, Your Daughter Carole
Debbie left a message on January 14, 2016:
Goodbye for now Mom, I am so glad I saw you in August 2015! I read to you from the KJV Bible and you accepted Jesus as your personal savior and HE forgave all your sins because you asked HIM to. You asked HIM to wash all your sins away in HIS blood that HE shed on the cross at Calvary. I know you are in Heaven now, because HE promised. Love Debbie
Julie McGarvey, Marylin Riepenhoff, left a message on January 13, 2016:
Jim...We are thinking of you at this difficult time, and remembering the loving care and concern you provided for Mary while she was a resident at Governor's Port. She was a great lady with a memorable personality, and we send prayers and sympathy to you and your family as you mourn her passing.
Charlie Sinatra left a message on January 12, 2016:
Jim, My condolences to you and your family at this difficult time. My thoughts are with you.
Randall and Kathleen DeAlba left a message on January 12, 2016:
Dear Beverly and Ray, we were so sorry to hear about your Mother's passing. Our condolences to you and your family.
Nate and Danelle Kinion left a message on January 11, 2016:
We were so sorry to hear about Mary Anne. We had such good times with Bob and Mary Anne when they lived in Panama City, FL and we rode motorcycles together. Beverly, you and all of your family are in our thoughts and prayers.
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