Hanna Zagal Obituary (1945 - 2024)

Today we celebrate the life of someone truly remarkable, my aunt, Hanna Zagal. Though the ache of loss is strong, today I want to focus on the life she lived, the impact she had on all of us, and the legacy she leaves behind. She was born on January 29, 1945, in Brooklyn, New York to Sidney and Elsie Neidenberg. Hanna passed away peacefully on Saturday, October 12, 2024. Hanna was a force of nature. Always on the go, she had this incredible energy about her — never letting grass grow under her feet, always moving toward the next adventure. She didn’t just live her life; she grabbed hold of it, steering it on her own terms, much like the trucks she drove across this vast country. As a cross-country truck driver, she had a career that suited her restless spirit, her love of freedom, and her curiosity about the world. It was a profession that took her far from her roots in New Jersey, eventually landing her in Amarillo, Texas, where she built a life for herself with Bob, her beloved husband of 45 years. For someone like Hanna, every road was a new story, every highway a path to something new. She had this way of making each journey — whether across state lines or just to the local Waffle House — feel like an adventure. I was lucky enough to share many of those late-night Waffle House runs with her when I would visit Amarillo since we were both night owls. It was our thing, an adventure no matter the time of night, filled with conversations and laughter. To this day, whenever I’m on the go — whether it’s a long trip or just moving through my busy life—I can feel her influence. In so many ways, I take after her, not just in height but in spirit. I carry a piece of her love for life, for movement, for not letting any moment pass by without squeezing every drop out of it. Hanna had many gifts, but one that she inherited and perfected was the unmistakable Pachter family humor. Built into her DNA, that humor was her superpower, a mix of quick wit and a bit of mischief that never failed to bring laughter, even in the most unexpected moments. She had this way of saying things with a grin or a raised eyebrow that could make a whole room laugh. It was a humor that bound our family together, and in Hanna, it found its fullest expression. No matter how tough the day had been or how long the drive was, she could always find a way to lighten the mood with a perfectly timed joke or a playful remark. Her humor wasn’t just about laughter — it was about connecting with people, making them feel seen, understood, and uplifted. Hanna had a special bond with my dad, her brother. They were Irish twins — born just 11 months apart to the day — so you can imagine they were close. Growing up so close in age, they shared a unique sibling connection full of love and protectiveness. My dad often shares a story that speaks to who Hanna was at her core: When they were young, some mean kids told my dad that there were worms in his shoes. As any little brother might, he believed them and started to panic. But Hanna, his big sister, was there. She took off his shoes and showed him, calmly and confidently, that there were no worms—only his big sister looking out for him. She was always protecting her little brother, from childhood all the way through life, just as she did everyone she loved. Although she never had human children, Hanna had plenty of "fur babies" — her dogs, who she lovingly referred to as my cousins. They were her companions on the road and in life, a testament to her deep capacity for love. Her dogs were a part of her family, and she treated them as such, giving them as much love and attention as any parent would give their children. And then there was Bob. In a world that often feels uncertain, their love was a constant. For 45 years, they stood by each other, creating a partnership that was as adventurous as it was steady. In Hanna, Bob found a soulmate — a woman who could navigate the winding roads of life with him, whether they were literal highways or the twists and turns of marriage. Today, we remember her spirit, her humor, and her boundless energy. We remember a woman who lived a full life, filled with love, adventure, and joy. A woman who, whether she was behind the wheel of a big rig or enjoying a cup of coffee at a Waffle House in the middle of the night, knew how to make every moment count. And we will certainly never forget the laughter she brought into our lives, reminding us that no matter how serious things get, there is always a reason to smile. Above all, we will remember the way she fiercely protected the ones she loved — whether it was her little brother from imaginary worms or her family and friends from the worries of life. Aunt Hanna, you’ve left us with so many memories, so many stories and a lasting impression of what it means to truly live. We will miss you, but we know you’re out there somewhere, still on the move, finding new adventures and never letting the grass grow under your feet. Rest in peace and know that your journey lives on in all of us. Hanna was preceded in death by her parents, Elsie and Sidney Neidenberg, and a sister Linda, prior to Hanna’s birth. Left to cherish her memory are her husband, Robert Zagal, a brother Alex Neidenberg, and a niece Michelle Neidenberg.