Lorraine Smith

In Memory of Lorraine (Lauri) Smith

Born in Modesto, California, November 9, 1967

Departed this Earth from Denver, Colorado, March 2, 2020

There are too many stories to share them all and, anyway, each of us has our favorites. Perhaps these recollections will create for you strong and clear imagery; snapshots of Lauri's 52 years. Too few years by far.

A twelve-month-old sprawled in her grandfather's lap, legs and arms akimbo, looking very pleased with herself. Pushing the family Siamese cat in her doll buggy. Covered in flour ""helping"" her grandmother make bread. The first pair of Chemin de fer jeans-actually long enough for Lauri, who was all legs and honey-blonde hair. Standing in line to shop for the perfect dress at Gunne Sax in San Francisco's garment district. A gangly young teen leaning against the side of her mother's car, scrunched down so as to not tower over her mom. Laughing with her best friend, Lisa, arms around each other, both wearing high school commencement gowns. Lauri's mortarboard, tassel dangling, perched at a rakish angle on long, sun-streaked hair. The 280 Z she was afraid to drive, until she wasn't. Escapades Lauri and Kris shared that remain unknown to this day.

A beautiful and glowing bride on the arm of her handsome husband, Mike. Dancing at her wedding reception with her grandfather, who ""did not dance."" (Grandma was glaring.) A black cat named Spook and a white cat named Witches sharing a window sill in the couple's first apartment, the first in a long succession of cats. Courtney a blue-eyed and furious infant, screaming in Lauri's arms because she had been plucked from her bath. Moving into the house in Aurora, Lauri saying, ""I never want to move again. This is the last house I ever want to live in."" Turned out it was.

Nathan came into the world, blue-eyed and blond, and then more blue eyes when Jake joined the family. Eyes as blue as a Rocky Mountain lake on a cloudless day. Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, merit badges, cookie sales, dance lessons, school carnivals. Help with homework, Halloween costumes, Christmas decorations and brightly ribboned packages. Lauri did it all. More cats, a Labrador puppy that ate everything, including doorknobs, stroller parts and a bra. Pictures and more pictures of friends and kids; family portraits adorning the walls. A succession of cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, parents, in-laws, grandparents, all drawn to the house in Aurora, Colorado. Lauri's house exuded comfort, always singularly warm and welcoming because it radiated Lauri.

The Ya-Yas. ""A group of three or more women whose hearts and souls are joined together by laughter and tears shared through the glorious journey of life."" Janine, Gaylynn, Kris and Desiree. And then Lauri, embraced by the Sisters. Floating on the lake, dragonflies skimming the water. Tears and laughter. Sharing. Beautiful friendships.

Trips to Disneyland. Disneyland was Lauri's magic. The family sitting on the curb on Main Street waiting for the parade; seven-year-old Courtney leaping up to cry out, ""Ariel! I love you!"" Staring up at The Screamer in California Adventures, trying up work up the courage to ride. We didn't. Already talking about the next trip as Disneyland disappeared from view on the way to the airport and home. Mickey Mouse; celebrating 1955. A tall cabinet crammed to overflowing with Disney movies.

Lauri baking theme cakes for birthday parties-first a dinosaur, followed by a dragon, a Disney princess. A unicorn, Hot Wheels, fire truck. An airplane. A crackling fire. Everyone snuggled under fleece blankets in front of the blaze watching a movie. Most likely a Disney movie. There could never be too many fleece blankets. An especially soft fabric, a new rendition of the latest superhero, a new Disney character-any of these things could trigger a fabric purchase and a new blanket would materialize. Everyone had at least one of Lauri's blankets, including the dog and the cats. Computer games, Xbox games, first dates, nail-biting driving lessons, graduations. Those blue-eyed boys seemingly overnight becoming six-foot-three young men, many inches taller than Lauri.

Lauri worked from home, and her office was a magnet for every living thing that came through the front door. A Labrador under her desk lying on her feet, a cat sunning on the windowsill. A child playing contentedly on the floor. A wall of bookshelves overflowing with books, gadgets and gifts made by the kids. Mickey Mouse again, beloved mementos, Wells Fargo stage coaches. ""Disneyland's Hidden Mickeys,"" no surprise there. A drawer full of awards and commendations from her colleagues and employer.

Times of transition. Courtney moving into her own apartment, Lauri laughing through her tears. A now-empty bedroom turned into a craft room where Lauri made blankets to give to Children's Hospital, more than a hundred all total. The lilac bush outside her office window that budded every spring, always to be nipped by a Front Range freeze. ""Maybe this will be the year the lilac blooms."" How many years did we hear that? The lilac is in bud now. Daffodils in the back yard, pumpkins turning orange in the garden, mums on the front porch. Always a vase filled with fresh flowers on the kitchen table. Lauri was filled with life and plans. The next Disney trip. A move back to the West Coast. A 25-year wedding anniversary to be celebrated with a trip to Europe. Missed by two months. Looking forward to new experiences.

Thirty years with Wells Fargo, beginning as a branch teller. Loan documentation, Small Business Administration, System Analyst. Loved by her teams. A thirty-year pin on a sinuous silver chain that arrived four days after she left us. Tears all around.

Lauri was all these things, did all these things, and yet these things cannot begin to define her. Can you see her? Can you feel her? Daughter, wife, mother, employee, manager, friend. Just words. Lauri was so much more than these. Loyal, generous, deeply caring, Lauri was a ""Light"" and gave with an open heart to all of us.

She cannot be replaced. She will never be forgotten.

Lauri is survived by her husband, Mike; her three children, Courtney, Nathan and Jake; her mother and father, Esther and Steve York; plus many beloved relatives and friends.

Aurora, Colorado

March 7, 2020