From the day I met her at age 14, Hannah was unapologetically herself. There was no one else in our high school who was that courageous; I was so pulled to her infectious energy. Several times, she got up in front of our choir of over 100 peers and performed her infamous whale joke. I have never laughed harder, it will forever be one of the best jokes I have ever heard (but specifically her version of it). She was goofy, outgoing, vulnerable, fearless, brilliant, curious, and most of all, loving. Hannah had one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know.
When we were 18, Hannah visited the Humane Society and learned that there was an elderly dog there who likely had just a few months left to live — Mr. Magoo. Hannah couldn’t stand the thought of senior Mr. Magoo living his last months without a family, so she adopted him on the spot. That summer, Hannah took Mr. Magoo everywhere she went. He was blind, deaf, and overall not doing too well, but she wanted to ensure that she gave him the best end of life possible. She loved the heck out of that little white dog. He even fell into a friend’s pool once, and she immediately jumped in to rescue him. At the time, that dog was everything to her.
Hannah loved her people hard. She took people in when they needed and was so good about checking in. I crashed with her and Hannah when the Marshall Fire hit our hometown and she spent the entire evening calling and messaging friends, checking if they were ok along with their houses. Despite experiencing her own distress that night, she calmed and loved on me.
There was and will never be anyone else quite like Hannah Spears. I feel so grateful and so privileged for all of the beautiful memories we have together, always full of so much laughter and maybe a few tears. Love you, Hannah — forever & always.