Love Letter to My Mom

Betty J. (Drevo) Buck took her final curtain call and walked into the golden sunset at sunrise on December 17, 2024. An eternal optimist, she squeezed the nectar from the fruit of every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day.

She had a light. It glowed. From within. It was vibrant and curious and magnetic. To her daughters, it could be a little embarrassing, especially when they were growing up. Over the past 18 years, since her first and only love, Norm, passed away, her daughters not only grew to appreciate her unfettered enthusiasm, but also embrace and emulate it.

Motherless at the age of 6 with two younger and phenomenal brothers- Kenny and Dave, she was raised in rural Nebraska by her father, extended family, and a far-reaching community, which imprinted a love of the outdoors, animals, and adventure. 

Through her determination and industriousness, she beautifully navigated the topography of the unexpected. When she wanted to attend college to pursue her dream of bringing her love of athletics to others as a PE teacher, a lack of funds and support (her H.S. guidance counselor told her that it was out of her reach) meant finding a non-traditional way to attend a year at Nebraska Wesleyan. In the end, she didn’t require a degree to fulfill her vision. Throughout her life, she taught hundreds of adults and children to swim, coached her daughters’ softball teams, and intertwined a life of activity and passion for sports into each day.

With her husband, Norm, whom she met in Lincoln, NE, in 1959 and married 8 months later on February 27, 1960- because she knew he was the one (and why wait), they settled in Grand Island, Nebraska, in 1967. Together, they created a family with three daughters, Dawn, Debbie, and Deanne, and built Buck’s Moving & Storage “one truck at a time.” She and Norm shared a love of camping, skiing in Colorado, summer vacations, taking a busload (literally) to Central Catholic football games, and, later in their retirement, traveling the country in their RV and creating community in California and Arizona. 

When Norm passed away unexpectedly on February 15, 2006, they had just moved to their 20-acre dream sanctuary of barns, pastures, and corals. She navigated her grief by cultivating deep friendships and time outside building a next life in the country.

Betty loved full moons. She sent texts to her daughters well past their bedtimes, which was WELL past her bedtime describing the intimate details of the Harvest, Hunter, Buck, Wolf, Flower . . .moons.

She also loved clocks. This is a little surprising given her propensity for never being on time. Not once. Ever.

She loved music. If a musician came to town (or to the state), she would buy two tickets. She was going!... and would figure out her sidekick at a later date. Her only regret was not seeing BB King in concert. She vowed never to wait for anyone to see live music. And, wait for anyone, she did not.

She loved singing. A Soprano, she sang in the church choir and at home. At 19 years old, she went into the recording studio and made an album. 

She loved her dogs. Boopsie. Mitsi. Rags. Sam. Hondo was her protector after Norm’s passing. Trucker was her soul mate, companion, friend, walking partner, adventurer, and attracted many a clear-eyed soul into her gravitational field.

She gathered friends. All ages. And, she loved people. Her favorite part of running her own business was working with the community. Her heart was big and full and overflowed.

When she wasn’t at the office, doing yoga at the Y, or gallivanting with her myriad of women friends, she was at her beloved home walking the country roads morning and evening, mowing the yard, overseeing the cutting of the alfalfa field, or chatting with Dennis about his cattle.

Above all, though, she held an unrestrained love of life and her family. Her three daughters, Dawn, Debbie, and Deanne, walked the path with her hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, and forever linked. Her grandchildren, Ardelle, Jamie, Jessey, and Trev, and great-grandchildren, Zylah and Baylar brought joy that could not be contained. Oh, how she loved babies.