In early November, I received a message from my cousins in Houston that my uncle had started hospice care and was unlikely to survive for long.

The sooner you can come, the better, my cousin said. My father's older brother, Abbas Khawaja, and his wife and children were our only nearby family growing up. My parents shared an apartment with my aunt and uncle in Chicago when they first arrived in America. I was born into that joint family apartment, as was my older cousin.

Those bonds have remained tight my entire life. So, when I received word of my uncle's rapid decline, I booked the next flight out of St. Louis.

I had to say goodbye to him.

I often describe my Abbas taya as larger than life: a dashing, charming, self-made successful businessman who loved his family and the good life. He delighted in making us laugh. Unlike parents, whose job involves discipline as much as love, my uncle didn't feel the need to reprimand or even try to guide me in any way.

I was always a star in his eyes. At least, that's how he made me feel.

In his later years, he began to struggle with dementia and some health issues. It was heartbreaking to see someone so vibrant and strong begin to diminish. In 2020, he nearly died when he got sick with COVID. The disease's lasting impact destroyed his mobility and severely compromised his lungs.

I would make a point to see him and my aunt whenever I visited my family. He would brighten during these visits. Sometimes I would catch glimpses of his old self. I dreaded the day he would no longer recognize me.

I made it to Houston in time to say farewell -- to kiss his cheek and thank him for a lifetime of love.

He died the next day.

During his funeral and burial, hundreds of people came to pay their respects: relatives, friends, old factory workers from the first business he started. I realized what a comfort it is to hear stories about how a person you've lost has touched other people's lives. I saw how much it meant to my father, my aunt and my cousins that our family was there for them to lean on during their grief.

One question kept pulling at me during that time: Who did I shower with unconditional love and support the way my uncle did for all of us? Obviously, our children are the center of our world, but was I making the most of my role as an aunt to my dozen nieces and nephews, especially since none of them live in the same city as us? To truly make someone feel like you believe in them is such a precious gift. You get as much from giving it freely and abundantly.

One of my taya's older nephews hugged my grieving father and said, "He loved like a child."

I keep coming back to those words.

It makes sense that as I get older, I offer condolences more frequently; in the week after my taya's death, I attended two other memorial services. Each one affected me in profound ways. When I go through a season heavy with loss, I reevaluate how I'm living my own life.

The services I attended crossed religious and cultural lines -- one Muslim, one Jewish and one secular, at which a monk spoke -- but the themes were remarkably similar. The bereaved shared stories of how their loved ones helped others, repaired a bit of brokenness in the world and enriched their lives.

At some point, we all carry holes of loss in our hearts. We try to carry on the legacies of those who have changed us. And we can find comfort in unexpected ways.

I am comforted in knowing that there was never a time when my uncle didn't recognize me.

He left knowing he was loved.

In July, I shared an update about Tyra Johnson, a single mom in St. Louis, whose story I have followed for the past two years.

At that moment in the summer, her life was falling apart. Someone had stolen her car, and she didn't have transportation to work or child care for her three young children. She also had a ticket for driving without a license.

That column sparked an outpouring of support from readers.

The first challenge was to help Johnson, 32, get her driver's license. She had always driven on a learner's permit. A reader connected her friends Simon Anderson and Sara Jay, who own Coach Harder Driving School, with Johnson's story and asked if they could help.

They immediately offered multiple driving lessons and also offered to accompany her to the test until she passed.

"Families without an easy form of transportation have many hardships that are unique to their situation -- especially for single-parent families with several children," Anderson said. "With three young kids ourselves, we can only imagine how difficult it is to raise them alone. We heard of Tyra and her hard times and were amazed by her positive attitude and optimism."

Their desire to help was cemented after meeting her in person, he said.

Johnson passed the driving test on her first attempt.

"I'm the first one of my mom's children to get a license," she said, crying tears of joy.

Anderson and his wife were among many who wanted to help. Another local do-gooder, Riz Khan, runs the Little Angels Foundation. After reading the story, he asked his members to donate to help buy Johnson another car. They responded enthusiastically. He also reached out to his friend, Zia M. Ahmad, who heads Muslim Community Services, St. Louis, and shared the story.

Ahmad was moved, and his members donated generously.

"Hearing about Tyra's plight and the difficulties she was facing in going about her daily responsibilities after her car was stolen, members of our group were moved to help her," Ahmad said. One of their members began searching for a safe and reliable used SUV, which was hard to find in the heated used-car market. When they finally found one, they purchased it, along with insurance and an anti-theft device.

When Johnson found out about the car, she cried again.

"I didn't know how I was going to make a way," she said. She had lost her job with Walmart because of child care and transportation issues. Another reader donated $600 in Uber gift cards, and they had quickly run out.

While these two local organizations quickly stepped up to replace her car, nearly a hundred readers wrote asking how they could contribute and help. Phil Sher, 78, a retired financial adviser, had connected with Johnson after I first wrote about her in August 2020. He set up a GoFundMe for her.

Donors contributed nearly $20,000 to that fund, which Sher manages for Johnson.

"It was beyond my expectations," Sher said. He's used the money to pay for a rental car during the month it took to find, purchase and transfer the title for a replacement car to her. It's also paid off a significant amount of her bills that had accumulated.

When Sher first got involved in helping Johnson, he said his goal was to help move her and her children out of the cycle of poverty and into the middle class.

He's hopeful about her attaining this goal eventually.

Johnson wants to use the remaining funds to either move to a safer apartment or as a down payment on a house. She has found a full-time job as a receptionist for a crisis hotline, signed up for a first-time homebuyers' program through Better Family Life St. Louis and is taking night classes to earn her high school diploma through MERS Goodwill. She is learning about budgeting and how to improve her credit score.

"I'm in a better place in life now," Johnson said.

Johnson said she has stayed in touch with Khan, who kicked off the campaign to replace her car. He and his volunteers spend every Saturday morning feeding the homeless downtown. She said she's looking forward to joining them soon.

"He helped me when I didn't have help," she said.

She hopes to pay it forward.

Debbi Musen, 75, was in New York City over the summer to help her daughter pack up her family's apartment. She was certainly not there to model in her pajamas.

But when her daughter, Melissa Gerstein, a producer originally from Creve Coeur, Missouri, saw an open call posted by a casting director on Instagram, she convinced Musen to take a break.

The agency was looking for real-life mother-daughter and sister pairs for a campaign for Soma Intimates, a lingerie, sleepwear and swimwear retailer. They were looking for women to feature in bras or pajamas.

Gerstein, 50, knew that she and her mom were definitely not interested in modeling in their undies, so she uploaded a few photos of the two of them -- fully clothed. To their surprise, they were invited to go audition in person.

"My mom was looking at me like I'm ridiculous," Gerstein said. Musen, a grandmother of five, had more practical concerns: She was concerned about finishing the packing. But she agreed to set aside the tape and bubble wrap for a short excursion.

They walked into a room filled with gorgeous women, some carrying professional headshots and resumes. Gerstein assured her mom they wouldn't be staying long; she only had an hour free before a scheduled work call. Five minutes before they had to head out, they were called in to audition.

"I didn't know what to expect," Musen said. They had never done anything like this before, so they decided to just be themselves.

"They asked us all these questions," Gerstein said, like what they loved about each other and enjoyed doing together during the holidays. The pair talked about their relationship and holiday traditions. When they walked out, they both agreed it had been a fun experience. Then they immediately forgot about it. Neither thought they had a chance of being picked.

"Not a hope in the world, as far as I was concerned," Musen said.

"For sure, we'll never hear from them," Gerstein thought.

Two weeks later, an email popped up in Gerstein's inbox.

"Congratulations, you've been cast," it said. They were going to be part of a nationwide campaign for Soma, with a print campaign hanging in 80 retail stores and on the company's social media accounts.

Gerstein called her mom with the news.

"No way! Don't joke with me," she said. Musen was convinced her daughter was kidding. When Gerstein read her the email, she was in shock.

"How do we have time to do this when we are moving your apartment?" she asked her daughter. She had planned to stay in New York for a couple of weeks to help with the move, but extended her stay to accommodate the photo shoot.

A day was set aside to pick out their wardrobe and do the fittings. The next day, hair and makeup artists got them ready for a full day of shooting with a photographer from London.

"It was very new for me," Musen said. Gerstein said she was delighted to see her mom get pampered.

"For the two of us to have this beautiful day and moment, it was really special. I will never forget it," Gerstein said.

When they saw the photos, they were blown away. Musen said the photographer made them look better than she could have imagined.

The pair said that the best part of the story is that they had decided to do it together on a whim. There's something to be said for being open to spontaneity even when facing daunting tasks like moving.

Musen said she's always been a somewhat serious person, so landing a modeling gig in her 70s was a bit outside her comfort zone. But she trusted that her daughter would make any adventure memorable.

"It was a really fun experience," Musen said.

She was also thrilled that they got to keep the pajamas.