A Life Left Behind

Fotos from the life of a Warrior Princess

She lived a life overflowing with love, defiance, and undeniable joy — the kind of life that left fingerprints on every heart she touched.

She was more than a sister, an aunt, or a best friend. She was a steady voice. A fierce protector. The one who showed up — every single time.

She was a confident woman whose compassion lifted others, whose strength steadied rooms, and whose spirit inspired courage in those who needed it most.

She did not just endure life — she met it head on.

She was a Warrior.

My sister carried many names, each one living in a different closet of her life:

Awilda, Amira, and Cookie.

Awilda, her birth name, is a closet of contrasts—pieces that seem mismatched until she steps out as a strong, vibrant, intelligent, vintage-Barbie beauty who quiets a room. That closet also holds navy and light-blue uniforms, medals, tiny shining boots, and green camouflage marked Irizarry—symbols of her 24 years as a Master Sergeant in the United States Air National Guard, devoted to pharmacy and drug testing.

Her second closet is Amira, the Arabic name she chose for her dance life, meaning princess. This is the joyful closet—hip scarves, veils, beaded tops, jingling accessories. It’s where I spent hours playing beside her, flying with her wings, clashing zills, and being the little sister, “da lil one”.

There is no closet for Cookie.
A closet could never contain her. Cookie was the glue that kept her family together. She was a sweet architect of our lives who built us up and tried her best not to let us down.

She was a warrior.

This photo essay honors the life she left behind after her brave journey with Leiomyoma Sarcoma—cancer. It’s the apartment filled with the life she left behind and she never returned to.

The Door

My sister placed remembrances upon her door of those she loved as a constant reminder of what was important in her life and build strength from it.

The Office

Within the foyer was her office space for managing her life, health, work and creativity. Here she would work and rest as she grew weary. It was also place where she displayed “the aunt trophies” bestowed upon her from her beloved niece and gaze upon vintage fotos of her favorite babies, her godson, older & lil sister, Da Lil One along with her mother.

The Dining Room

This spot began with quiet mornings—coffee in hand, a warm bagel, a moment of peace. As her journey deepened, it transformed into a sanctuary for her friend Nancy’s cards, overflowing with love, hope, and reminders that she was never alone. It also became the place where the medical supplies arrived and Halls Cough Drops consumed —quiet lifelines that helped her keep breathing.

As a child I named her feet Sandy and Harold, playing with her toes at Orchard Beach, laughing without knowing how precious those moments were. Her shoes, though small and well-worn, hold the miles she walked and the strength that carried her through them.

The Living Room

Her living room was more than a space — it was the heartbeat of her life.

It was where everything happened. From watching her favorite show, Friends — laughing at scenes she had already memorized — to sharing meals, creating choreography, and inspired her students to rise above their limitations.

Within those walls, hours dissolved into memories. She sat with loved ones side by side or held them close through late-night phone calls, as her own stories unfolded and she gently held space for theirs. It absorbed fears spoken in whispers. It witnessed tears she wiped away with steady hands and an even steadier heart. It was a room filled with hope and repentance.

The room served more than love — it served laughter in abundance. It embodied the pride of her military life. The knowledge of her passions of dance and the middle east.

It was a sanctuary of encouragement and bold belief — where she reminded her students, and everyone fortunate enough to witness her life, of the motto she lived by:

“Be Fierce, then be FEARLESS!”

And in that living room, she showed us exactly how.

The Bedroom

Her bedroom was the sanctuary of her faith — sacred, intimate, holy. It was where heaven felt closest. The statue of the Blessed Mother, once cradled in her own mother’s hands, stood watch over her. Around her were the ashes of her beloved pets — not reminders of loss, but of love that never left.

She was a devoted fur mom with a heart big enough for them all. Jessie, her first Sheltie Mix — her beginning. Christmas, her second Sheltie, lovingly called Chrissy, a holiday gift from Da Lil One. Then came Gracie K, her third Sheltie — the spirited, “OCD lunatic” purebred Da Lil One gave her because she wanted a “Therapy Dog.” And of course, Eastwick — her tuxedo cat, named after the film The Witches of Eastwick. Eastwick, with his dramatic flair and mischievous antics, was often greeted with “mother lover!” Da Lil One warned her that one day he would answer to it… and somehow, he did.

 This room was her prayer place. Rosaries rested beside well-worn Bibles and books filled with encouragement and underlined hope. Faith lived here. So did comfort. Teddy bears lined her space like quiet guardians — especially Boo Boo, her first bear, who had been by her side since she was 23. Boo Boo witnessed it all — the prayers, the heartbreak, the healing.

Behind her bed stood the closets that told the story of her identity — The Awilda Closet and The Amira Closet. They were more than clothing. They were expression. Transformation. The fabric of her confidence and her deep love for Middle Eastern dance. They held her fire, her femininity, her art.

That bedroom was her hope space. Her cry space. The place of whispered prayers and guttural screams. The place of mourning and rebuilding.

It was where she laid her burdens down and gathered her strength again.

It was not just a room.

It was were her heart and soul resided.