Ruth Lewis of Westminster, Calif.

She was always Ruth Margaret to her mom, never Ruth.

Born March 6, 1933, in Perry, Iowa, the youngest of six daughters of Anna White and Francis “Moses” Glenn. Sandwiched between three older and three younger brothers. Ruth Lewis passed away April 26, 2019.

She lived her life in southern California, raising her daughter, Ann O’Brien, and marrying Ivan Lewis June 28, 1969.

She returned frequently to Perry to visit friends and family, and her and Ivan’s home in California was always open to visitors anytime for as long as you wanted to stay. Never tiring of taking her lodgers to the same California tourist spots over and over. She knew the perfect spot for viewing a Disneyland parade and the precise moment to have your camera ready for the big explosion during a Universal Studios show.

I first visited as a kid on a family trip followed by individual visits and visits in which I convinced various friends—and sometimes their kids—to come along. No one was ever disappointed. Everyone who met her loved her. If she was in the room, she let you know it, and you were excited about it.

She was the life of the party no matter your age or background, playing games, telling stories—maybe there was some embellishment for effect—and making everyone in the room hysterical.

She was devoted to her family, making sacrifices to spend weeks in Iowa at different times looking after her mom or flying her to California. Similarly, when her sister—my mom–was in the hospital for weeks, Aunt Ruth was on a plane and here to help.

Growing up, when my mom treated herself to new clothes, Aunt Ruth would wear them before my mom had a chance and hang them back in the closet dirty and then deny it. ‘Til the day that the pull of being in the limelight got the best of her and she allowed herself to be photographed out having fun in my mom’s latest suit.

There’s the time she and my mom didn’t eat any of the tuna dish when company came for dinner. Grandma kept trying to discreetly tell them to go ahead, there was enough to go around. They’d not seen the stalking cat who quickly jumped onto the counter to feast on tuna. So Ruth and my mom took a pass on the tuna but made the decision to let the company enjoy the cat’s leftovers.

Then there was the time we were touring the Queen Mary. Both my friend and I were dressed as sloppy American tourists. As we neared a restaurant with a giant sign informing us, “Appropriate Attire Required,” Aunt Ruth asked if we were appropriately attired, and I swear the employee whose job it was to keep out the riff-raff locked in on the diamond around her neck and responded graciously, “Yes, ma’am, you are.” There was not a chance in the world we’d have gotten in without her “attire.”

Along with her generosity and compassion, she didn’t ask for permission, nor did she ask for forgiveness. She taught both the importance of respect and manners and to stand up for yourself.

She was full of life and wanted everyone around her to enjoy life, too. Fun, generous, cool, fashionable, welcoming, loving, hilarious, always a bit mischievous but on your side.

And honestly, this represents only a small fraction of the whirlwind of fun that was Aunt Ruth. My entire life she lived in California. I only interacted with her when she was visiting Iowa or the precious times I visited her and her family in California.

Doesn’t that speak volumes about the giant light she shined upon the world? Her impact? I wasn’t interacting with her daily or even monthly for much of my life, and yet she had an out-sized impact on my life and left an even bigger empty space behind.