If love could have saved her, she would still be here. If the world had seen what those who truly knew LeeAnn saw, maybe things would have been different. Maybe she wouldn’t be a memory, frozen in time, forever 23.

Because LeeAnn was more than what the world chose to see.

She was a girl who could turn sorrow into laughter, the kind of person who found the right words when everything else felt wrong. She had a fire in her, a fierce, unwavering loyalty to those she loved. If you needed her, she showed up—no hesitation, no conditions. She was the first to help, the first to fight for the people she loved, the first to remind you that you mattered.

She deserved to be seen for that. For the way she felt things so deeply, for the way she carried burdens that weren’t hers just to lighten someone else’s load. She was more than the struggle, more than the chaos that tried to define her.

If her family could have one more moment, they wouldn’t waste it on questions that no longer have answers. They wouldn’t beg for explanations or try to change what they cannot. They would just be with her—one more look, one more second to hold on before the world let go.

And they would tell her the truth that never changed, not once, not ever:

"I love you."

She should still be here. Laughing in the moments where others would have cried. Showing up when no one else did. Living, breathing, being. But even in her absence, LeeAnn has not disappeared.

She exists in the stories that will be told forever—the ones about the way she made people feel, about how she could turn the worst day into something survivable, about how she never let the people she loved feel alone.

LeeAnn wasn’t perfect, but she was real. She was love. She was loyalty. She was laughter that lingers long after the joke is over.

And she will never be forgotten.