Lisa

Dear Aunt Lisa,

I can remember as a child, gosh Keke and I couldn't have been any older than four or five years old, how you would often let us crawl into your bed at night because we were so afraid of the dark at Grandma Linda's house!

For some reason, the darkness that used to envelope those walls draped over our small bodies like thick, wool blankets...and the constant, blinking light from the clock on the microwave illuminated shadows against the walls that alluded to the thought that we were characters in a little scary movie...at least that is what our tiny minds thought at the time. Kids!

To ease our fears, you'd often turn the dial on your tiny, black stereo where we could listen to random songs. Did you know that was the first time that we'd ever heard "Da Butt", Quincy Jones's "Secret Garden", and "Two Occasions" by The Deal? I remember candidly turning over to ask Keke, "What is da butt?" She and I giggled so much that night after hearing that song that we woke you up. Retrospectively, it had to have upset you because you were sound asleep, but you never got on to us not once.

I remember how you selflessly bought us our 5th-grade and 8th-grade graduation dresses because our mom couldn't afford to do so on her own, and still managed to see that the bills were paid and that we had sufficient food in the kitchen to eat.

During the blizzard of '93, we were all stuck with you at your mobile home on Kansas Street and the power had gone out, you convinced us that we could all trek to grandma's house in the snow. According to Google from your house, at the time, to hers is approximately 1.1 miles by foot and should have taken 24 minutes; however, seeing that you had the three of us and your two little boys, I know it must have taken us hours. Either way, we persevered and made it to that warm house. You'd have thought we had won the lottery as we opened those doors to gas heat, vegetable soup, and hot chocolate. You all saved our lives that day!

As we entered our teenage years, we could always come to you and ask those daunting questions about kissing boys, periods, and dating! We knew we'd be scolded if we dared ask our parents, but with you, we always got pure, unadulterated truth...whether it was something we wanted to hear or not.

To this day, and at 61 years old, you are still that way! You've been a constant support system for my children and me, other family members, and friends. You've cheered us all on in of our triumphs and shed tears alongside us in those dark moments. You've been there for so many people, for so many years, served our country proudly, and became a retired, decorated Master Sergeant after 40 years of service in 2023. For that, I am most proud!

Recently, it broke my heart to learn that after several military tours, multiple trips around the world for your civilian, and federal job, and a blessed opportunity to retire, even from that job on 11/9/2024, you would suffer a health crisis that forced doctors to amputate your leg.

I know that it may pain you to not be able to come and go as you once did, and I know that you may temporarily mourn the loss of mobility. For many, retirement is supposed to be a welcomed happy time, but for you...you were still trying to find work to do. I don't know why, but maybe a part of you thinks that it is your work that defines you; however, I think people are characterized by their kindness towards their fellow man and family.

I believe people are characterized by their hearts and willingness to encourage, support, and defend those hurting, in need, or unable to "stick up" for themselves. For as long as I have known you, you have always shown kindness, courage, humility, love, and patience to us all, and if a person's worth is measured by the size of their heart, then my dear Aunt Lisa you are truly priceless.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Take care,

Nakia