My Mother.

Every morning, Sugie Lane Vasquez would rise with purpose. She’d get dressed, put on her makeup, fix her hair, and lace up her shoes. I don’t ever remember seeing my mom without makeup during the day. It was her way of claiming a sliver of herself, a piece of her identity, in a world where she was often made to feel invisible. Her mornings were filled with small rituals of joy—like playing “Who Dat” on KOGT radio. With pen and paper in hand, she would listen intently, jotting down the wrong answers others called in while chatting with her dad on the phone. Together, they worked to solve the puzzle, eagerly waiting to call in with the right guess to win a free cassette tape. It was a simple game, but it brought her so much happiness.

My mom’s tortillas were delicious. As she made them, I would sneak one whenever I could, joined by neighborhood kids who couldn’t resist swiping them straight off the stove. I’ll never forget the day at school when we were asked to bring a dish that represented our family—my mom proudly made tortillas.

Sugie’s love extended beyond her family to animals. She had a tender, nurturing spirit, feeding stray cats in a long row on the front lawn so they wouldn’t fight, and becoming the go-to person for saving sick or injured animals. Her gentle hands and compassionate heart were a lifeline for so many creatures in need.

She created magic in her children’s lives, even within the confines of her own. Friday nights were for Neapolitan ice cream—each of us getting our favorite flavor—and cozying up on a pallet in the living room to fall asleep to TV shows. But even in those cherished moments, fear lingered.

One April Fools’ Day stands out in my memory. I was THE WORST at getting up in the mornings—I loved my sleep. But that day, my mom burst into my room, excited as she told me that our dog, Starla, had puppies. I jumped up and ran to the utility room so fast, only to find Starla wearing a cardboard sign that said, “April Fools.” My mom laughed until she couldn’t breathe. “I’ve never seen you get up so fast,” she teased for days afterward. Starla wasn’t even pregnant. It was her humor, her lightheartedness, that made even the simplest moments unforgettable.​

Sugie Lane Vasquez was so much more than a victim. She was a devoted mother, a loving daughter and sister with a generous spirit who poured her love into every moment, no matter how small. Her light, though dimmed by cruelty, continues to shine in the memories of those who loved her.

Sugie’s story is not just one of tragedy—it is a testament to her resilience, her joy, and her love. She didn’t escape in this world, but she is free now, where her light can never be dimmed again. She is missed dearly, but her spirit lives on in every memory, every laugh, and in the fight for justice that carries her name.

She deserves justice. She deserves to be remembered—not for what was taken from her, but for the love she gave, the light she shined, and the strength she carried through unimaginable pain.

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If anyone has a memory of my mom from school, childhood, or any other time in her life, I would love to hear your stories. Please share them with me—they would mean the world. Let’s honor her by keeping her spirit alive through the memories of those who knew her.

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