Ann Packard

The spicy woman we described as the Energizer Bunny finally exhausted her battery on June 26, 2026, passing away peacefully in the comfort of her home.

Standing just 5 feet 3 inches tall and weighing less than a buck, Ann never let life convince her she was small. She was pure fire in a compact package, with the presence of someone who could fill a room-or clear it-depending on her mood.

She was born in Brigham City, Utah on June 22, 1965 and became a chosen daughter to Merlin and Wilma Butler with her chosen siblings Andy, Pam and Brian. She grabbed life by the horns early and packed more adventures into her teenage years than most people manage in a lifetime. Ann was never one to follow the expected path. She lived loudly, loved a good time, and collected stories along the way-some that could be shared at the dinner table, and others that stayed her secret.

She had a rare talent for contradiction. Ann had her own language of love. Rules were more of a loose suggestion, opinions were meant to be challenged, and she made it perfectly clear that what other people thought of her was their problem, not hers. You didn't just meet Ann-you experienced her. She was stubborn, intense, and never afraid of a good argument; whether it was over something important or something completely ridiculous.

She met the yang to her yin, Rick L Packard, while he was playing in a band called Defiance. Honestly, the name alone was probably enough to catch her attention, but his big '80s hair and tight pants sealed the deal. They were married on June 11 and spent 38 unbelievable years together.

Ann was the mother of Tara Hart (Tyler) and Reece Packard (Kristen). She was so proud of her 6 grandbabies (Treyton, Taylor, Tenley, Taleah, Rorie and Haddie). She wasn't the soft-and-sentimental kind of woman. Her love showed up as fierce, hard-earned life lessons, unsolicited advice, colorful language, and the kind of honesty that sometimes stung.

She loved loud music, being outdoors and a good laugh. Whether it was sitting around a campfire, or simply telling stories that somehow got better every time they were told, Ann knew how to make ordinary moments unforgettable.

Ann leaves behind her family and countless friends who will forever miss her wit, her stories, her rebellious spirit, and her very specific way of telling the truth, whether you were ready to hear it or not.

So don't remember Ann quietly. Tell the stories that make everyone laugh until they cry. Turn Ozzy up just a little louder. Break a rule every now and then. Speak your mind. Live unapologetically.

Those who meant the most to Ann will gather privately to celebrate all that she was and the memories she leaves behind.

If there's a jukebox in heaven, she's already blasting "Give Heaven Some Hell"