Lea: Never Wrong, Always Bold

Celebrating Lea with a living obituary to acknowledge the preciousness of life and time. FYI - She is fine. This is an exercise.

Lea was the kind of person who saw a challenge and dove in headfirst—literally. After watching a YouTube video, she radiated confidence and went for a handspring into a back tuck. She didn’t make it and that was her death. But give her credit—she never hesitated to try, even if it meant failing gloriously.

In her world, effort was everything. Lea was athletic, no matter what the sport in PE was. She didn’t always have the most skill, but she more than made up for it with determination and a bit of intimidation. She had this way of finding her people in new situations, becoming instantly popular without ever having to say it. Because, as she once wisely noted, "If you have to tell people you’re popular, it probably means you aren’t."

Lea’s aspirations were uniquely her own. While everyone else was busy dreaming of becoming doctors or lawyers, she had her sights set on being a gym teacher. She never followed the crowd—she set her own course and did so with pride.

Music was a huge part of her life. Whether in the bathroom or with friends, her playlists were perfectly curated and evolved every three months to reflect her ever-changing mood. And when she wasn’t in a trance, she was either designing clothes (though they often came out three sizes too small) or trimming her own hair. While her parents kept a catalog of "I told you so" moments—mostly of botched haircuts—Lea never got discouraged. After years of persistence, she finally managed to give herself bangs. Victory was hers.

Her creativity didn’t stop there. As a child, Lea was known for her sharp wit—and sharper teeth. The overbite that followed had her dreaming of starting a GoFundMe for Invisalign.

She also never hesitated to face discomfort. Though she was allergic to anything with fur, breaking out in hives and puffing up like she’d just been through a breakup, it didn’t stop her from spending the night at a friend's house filled with cats. Her trusty sidekick? Benadryl.

But one thing she didn’t take lightly was needles. Blood draws were out of the question. The halls of Kaiser in Pleasanton still echo with stories of her sprinting away in terror, and her shrieks once set off a wave of crying toddlers in Hong Kong. Needles? No way. But death? She wasn’t afraid of that. She knew it was inevitable.

In her last year, you would have thought she practically bathed in Sephora perfume and nail polish remover, leaving her family dizzy from the scents. But she loved it. Just as she loved her thick, lustrous hair, which she meticulously cared for with coconut oil.

Her pediatrician projected her height at 5’2", though we’ll never know if she would have reached that goal. She didn’t need the extra inches to stand tall. Lea’s presence filled any room, her confidence infectious and her energy undeniable.

She lived fiercely and laughed often. Did she find love? We'll never know. Things will certainly be quieter without her, but she leaves behind a life full of unforgettable memories and a legacy of fearlessness, humor, and heart.

DISCLAIMER: Lea is fine and well. Below is a bit more context about the living obituary…

“Everybody knows they’re going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently,’ Morrie said.

‘So we kid ourselves about death,’ I said.

‘Yes, but there’s a better approach. To know you’re going to die and be prepared for it at any time. That’s better. That way you can actually be more involved in your life while you’re living. . .

Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, ‘Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?...

The truth is, once you learn how to die, you learn how to live… Most of us walk around as if we’re sleepwalking. We really don’t experience the world fully because we’re half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do… Learn how to die, and you learn how to live.”

Why Am I Doing This? As I reflect on the life I want to live, I realize the importance of being present for the people who make it meaningful. That's why I'm starting a new tradition: writing living obituaries for my loved ones on their birthdays. It's a way to slow down, appreciate, and cherish the time we have together.