Letter 2/8/06 from Susan, Rick & Andrew

Leah Camille Quintana

2/18/98 - 2/3/06

Although this has been an unreal, surreal, unbelievable tragedy, Leah’s life was so full and happy. We are overwhelmed with all of the love and support we’ve felt and received from all over – from our families and friends (and Leah’s friends), neighbors, customers, coworkers and from strangers. We were helped through last week by so many and now by so many more.

Leah’s passions and experiences made her life so full and happy. She was independent and curious, creative and experimental, sweet yet spunky, sharp and clever, funny and goofy, fearless and strong, friendly and caring.

She was an artist, a friend, a sister, a daughter, an inventor, a shining star, and our muse. She never wanted help and said “I can do” to everything starting at 2. She always popped in with “Can I help?” when something needed fixing, gravel needed shoveling, ingredients needed mixing, or pancakes needed flipping… but never when something needed cleaning! (for that, she required an inventive game)

Two of her passions were our two cats Pekoe and Fizz. Occasionally, the cats didn’t feel the same way about her when she played a bit too roughly or pestered them mercilously. She adored them, wrote about them, and often incorporated them in her artwork. Her passion for gymnastics was intense yet enjoyable and she loved being with her team. She always had a smile on her face even during conditioning….being upside down was often preferred and was as natural as right side up. So many other things she loved -- piano, ice skating, cooking, and drawing.

In the past days, we’ve found ourselves craving those things that made us crazy or made her unique: Leah emptying the shampoo bottles, poking holes through bars of soap, dragging her hair through her food, putting her elbows on the table, drawing on furniture, removing the heads from her Barbies, taking forever to get ready in the morning and for bed, her particular eating habits -- refusing to eat breakfast or insisting on tuna or beans for breakfast, only eating food without specks of color or spices. She knew right from wrong and knew our ‘family rules’, but the power of her drive and strong-will often took over.

We will always remember the things that made us laugh: speaking martian talk, her laugh, her routines, the way she twisted like a pretzel while we read to her at night, her jokes, how she continued spraying whip cream after we said ‘stop’, her tactile nature that drove her to touch her food and coat her hands with yogurt, and the way the paint always ended up covering her hands and arms.

In Leah’s last days, she showed her fighting strength and continued to win the hearts of many. The paramedics and fire fighters were so quick to her rescue and whisked her off to SF General Hospital, one of the best trauma centers in the country. Her team of doctors and nurses were amazing, incredible people who fought for her every step of the way, kept hope, and aggressively tried everything possible to keep her alive and bring her back to us. They taught us so much and showed so much compassion for Leah and for us. In the end, there were complications not choices – and in the end, Leah brought life to others.

Leah fought hard as she always did and would want us to keep her in our hearts and remember her bright, happy passion for life. She will live on in our memories and will watch over and provide us with strength.

All we ask is that you let Leah bring a smile to your face... Always remember her, feel her smile and happiness, and make every day count.