If you knew Dianne Siskin, you know she was gentle and patient and kind and supportive. She led with kindness and joy. It made her a great wife, mother, sister, friend, and teacher. She taught ballroom dance for over 30 years, teaching more than just dance steps. She believed in you. She taught you how to be patient with yourself as you learned something new. She lent you her joy and reminded you to laugh and have fun in both your successes and your missteps. She lived her life with words and deeds of encouragement and support. She looked for the silver lining to every cloud and had endless depths of empathy and grace.

In retirement, her obsession with pickleball was infectious. Dianne was a natural ambassador to the sport and she treasured the pickleball community. While she wanted to play well, what brought her the greatest happiness wasn’t winning. It was inviting new people onto the court, teaching them the game, encouraging them, and making sure no one ever felt left out. She had a remarkable ability to turn strangers into friends and beginners into confident players. That was just who she was. She paid close attention to the world around her and the people in it and she always left things better than how she found them.

Dianne was also a talented wildlife photographer. Anyone can take a picture, but Dianne captured moments that most of us would never even notice. She had the patience to sit quietly and wait for exactly the right moment. She could photograph a tiny caterpillar as it formed a cocoon and then wait, sometimes for days, until a butterfly emerged and beat its wings for the very first time. That patience wasn't just something she brought to photography. It was something she brought to life. She was patient with her dance students and pickleball partners.

CJD struck like a bolt of lightning on a sunny day.  Dianne was in athletic condition in the prime of her life.  We only hope that if we all come together to raise awareness for this rare and enigmatic disease we may someday understand its cause and hope to develop treatments.  

​​​​​​​They say grief is the price we pay for having loved someone so completely. We will miss her terribly. But we’re all also incredibly fortunate to have loved her.  

Thank you, Dianne, for your patience, your laughter, your kindness, your generosity, and your example. We love you. We always will. And we will carry you with us—in all of the wonderful memories of you, in every butterfly, every autumn leaf, every familiar song, every snowfall, and every act of kindness we share with someone else.  Your legacy lives on in all of us.