In memory of Lanita Akins
She is gone, but her spirit persists in all who knew her. We go on.
She lived a fast life, moving quickly through her dreams. She lived a long life.
A slave to fashion she rarely was, evolving her own sense of style. Her fire burned so very bright I had no choice but to shade my eyes. She knew how to smile and she brightened the days until her light dimmed.
I pitied the fools who dared to argue with her. Best have your facts straight.
Lanita was an artist when it came to an argument or a debate. Arguing with her was never pretty as she was determined to win. At least I knew what I was getting into, but I occasionally pitied the fools who didn’t know what they were about to experience.
A delicate path of memories fade and grow like a spider web.
My sister Lanita Akins died on April 12, 2024 at the age of 77. She was diagnosed with dementia in 2020.
Lanita was full of energy and filled wherever she was with her smile, humor and enthusiasm. She moved fast through life until the very end.
In 1973 my brother Steve wrote a poem about loss for our cousin Future whose husband Henry (Hank) Grady Brewer died in a tragic accident. Steve's poem evokes the spirit of west Texas and the spirit of everyone who grew up there, which means it evokes the spirit of Lanita. With the permission of Steve and Future, here is his poem.
In memory of west Texas
by Steve Akins
Down the telephone lines, burdened
by all those calls that left us held
quite giddily aloft, that brought
the shock and the soothing touch,
that sang for once graceful
Comanche braves and whispered
their death sentence across the
southern plains,
for all the stranded and stray
cotton stuck in tumbleweeds
along your roadsides that
always filled our view, the
mesquite and the zigzag rows
of plowed dirt suddenly whirling
in your mind, the devils that
picked up coyotes and shook pickup
trucks and young kids' Volkswagens
filled with cases of
Coors, the sadness of memory
strung out through the wild and
bloody and peaceful history of
antelope and lion, hawk and
quail, lizard and insects that
roared through the high grasses where
buffalo once roamed. Steel
knives and drilling rigs and
spurting thick oil, the liquor
stores in and out of your
counties where deputy sheriffs
strode keeping the order and
across the tracks the song of
Mexican lyrics and black
rhythm seemed to us as only
a nice backdrop behind a
stage where upon we were
confused and often stammered
and guessed a hell of a lot
and once or twice thank God
we're lucky. The beloved sunset
and the holy sunrise in that
horizon where the Chihuahuan
Desert merges with the Llano
Estacado, where the whooping
cranes once danced.
Now Charlie Pride sings your
songs where once a wailing
Apache woman prayed to the
dazzling moon. And the
rattlesnakes still glide
across the stony hills and
jackrabbits still jet through the
cotton patch. Mosquitos still
hover in the spring air. Scorpions
in the summer night.
Cockroaches in the corner.
Nothing really changes - the
windmill still stirs and the
stars are all shining bright. Over Lanita’s last few years, the light in her began to dim. As the memories faded, so did she. She held onto her fading memories with grim determination, exuberance and pride until the very end.
She lived her own way, muleheaded and stubborn 'til the very end.
"Muleheaded and stubborn" was how Steve described her after we learned of her death. That's not an insult, that's a high compliment.
Throughout her life she refused to give up, even when the odds were very much against her. She was that way these last few years, even though all knew she wasn't coming back. Her mind and spirit left for other places and her body finally, stubbornly accepted fate.
Sifting randomly through past memories and time some of us get lost and rarely return. Memories can be precious, even when broken. Near the end of time she talked of forgotten dreams that were sometimes true. I saw from afar her hair turned into leaves and then she was gone.
For most of my life I have tried to learn from every situation, even the painful ones. I figure if I can learn and improve, something good can come out of anything, even loss, sadness and grief.
From every loss through the pain and memories something new is born. Life teaches it is never easy to let go so we must practice.
Life seems to continually warn us that hard times will come and that it isn't easy to let go. One way to deal with loss is to be resilient. That's something I'll be working on this week.
beautiful and oh, so true...you did a great job...my tears are from the wonderment of it all
thank you
I will miss my friend that helped me understand studying history