Some people carry love in their voices, in their laughter, in the way they simply are. Carrie Jean Simon was one of those people. She didn’t just exist in the lives of those around her—she filled them. With warmth, with light, with the kind of love that wraps itself around you and lingers long after the moment is gone.

She was “Pumpkin,” sweet and bright, a soul who made the world feel softer just by being in it. She was “Care Bear,” because love wasn’t just something she gave—it was something she embodied. Family, friends, even strangers felt it. She carried people in her heart, held them close, made sure they knew they were never alone.

Carrie had a way of making a house feel like a home, of making an ordinary day feel like something worth remembering. She loved deeply, laughed freely, and never hesitated to be exactly who she was—a beacon of kindness in a world that needed her.

Though she is gone, her love remains. It lingers in the hearts of those who knew her, in the echoes of laughter, in the warmth of her memory. Carrie was, and always will be, a light that can never be dimmed.