Staci Elaine Camacho

"I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love, and a little drunk." - Atticus

Staci Camacho sadly went too early, definitely loved and unfortunately sober, despite what her liver thought.

Staci, 51, died Aug. 21 from complications of non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver.

Staci was dealt more medical complications than an entire floor of a hospital. Through it all she never lost her sense of humor, her determination or her sarcasm.

Staci Elaine Warren was born May 14, 1973, in Fort Worth, Texas. She enjoyed five glorious years as the beloved only child to her parents, only grandchild to her maternal grandparents-Nanny Emma and Daddy Bo-and only local grandchild to her paternal grandparents, from whom she lived across the street. She was particularly close to that grandmother, Nanny Ruth, who absolutely thought that french fries and Coke were a well-balanced breakfast.

Some of Staci's fondest childhood memories came from overnight visits with Nanny Ruth and Granddad: a day spent at Hulen or Ridgmar Mall, followed by a big bowl of popcorn all to herself while Nanny rolled her hair on pink sponge rollers and they watched "Golden Girls" together. The next morning, she'd sit with Granddad and read through the comics. Later they would spend time in his woodshop or swing on the bicycle-tire swing hanging from the huge tree in the front yard.

She became a big sister to Holly in 1978, which worked great until Holly learned to talk back.

In high school, Staci played flute in the Mighty Eagle Marching Band, where she competed in state competitions. She also worked on the yearbook, serving as co-editor her senior year.

Staci dove right into work after graduating in 1991, taking a job at a photography studio. She met her first husband there. They were married just a few years, and honestly, not worth mentioning. But photography was one of Staci's lifelong loves, inherited from her dad. She ran her own photography company, Fiabella Photography, in the mid-2000s.

She went back to school in 1995 to pursue a career in nursing. While taking a medical terminology class, she met her second husband, a Marine working on his own degree. The two started dating, marrying in full military uniform in June 1996. They eventually had two beautiful daughters: Sofia "Monkey" Camacho in 2006 and Olivia "Buggy"Camacho in 2008.

She was lucky enough to have several ride-or-die friends: Some - Shawnda Hennessey, Amy D'Olive Knusta - she met in high school. Others - Nicki Turpin - were high school reconnects. Her 20-plus year friendship with Cindy Myrick started when they were both nurses at Fort Worth Pediatrics. Cindy's extensive medical knowledge made her the perfect person to serve as Staci's medical power of attorney. Cindy spent many hours on speaker phone, listening as doctors talked through treatments options and more. Staci and Jodie Bosco instantly connected in a medical support group.

Staci had a wanderer's soul. She was filled with wanderlust from her earliest days. She traveled extensively: Europe with Mike and Martha. New Orleans frequently; her first trip led by Nanny Emma after Staci turned 18. She honored her "favorite place on Earth" with a fleur de lis tattoo on her lower back. In fact, when getting an epidural for her first C-section, the anesthesiologist asked "So are you a big fan of the Boy Scouts?" (No, dude. No.) Other trips included Hawaii, England, France, New York City, Mexico, Belize and Honduras.

"I loved to travel, and all that that implies," she said, paraphrasing a favorite quote from "Urban Cowboy."

Cruelly, her travels were curtailed by a string of health issues. Trigeminal Neuralgia led to two brain surgeries in six months. She spent months in and out of the hospital as doctors struggled to diagnose her Guillain-Barré Syndrome. It eventually evolved into chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy, which left her walking "like a drunken toddler." She became paralyzed but learned to walk again.

And as a final insult: non-alcoholic cirrhosis. (She didn't even get to earn it.) Again, months in and out of hospitals and rehab facilities as Kansas doctors struggled to diagnose the disease. She moved back home to Texas, where her mother Patrice took her in and cared for her.

"She's my first-born baby," Patrice said of the decision.

Not long after the move and her 50th birthday, Staci fell into a coma. Doctors warned the family to prepare for the worst. But she wasn't giving up yet. She continued to fight - not just her body's decline but sometimes the people trying to help her.

During a visit from her wonderful younger sister, Staci asked for a fountain Coke. Holly procured, only to be told that Staci could not drink from straws for fear of aspirating into her lungs.

A battle of wills ensued. Holly declined to commit manslaughter in the name of caffeine. Staci continued to demand the straw, insisting "I am the boss of me," which is the most Staci thing she has ever said. Eventually a truce was settled: Holly spoon-fed the large McDonald's Coke to her sister while they watched "Yellowstone." If Rip Wheeler can't bring two people together, no one can.

Holly gave Staci a set of silver straws the following Christmas.

Staci out-stubborned her declining health, returning to her mother's Burleson home after four months in the hospital. She spent her final months in the care of her loving mother, with frequent visits from her daughters.

Staci is preceded in death by her father, Robert C. Warren, Jr.; her grandparents: Robert Sr. and Ruth Warren, and Raymond G. "Bo" and Emma Allen; and her beloved dog, Frisco.

She is survived by her daughters, Sofia and Olivia Camacho in Kansas, and Emily (John) Henderson, in Virginia; son Garrett (Ana) Camacho, in Virginia; five grandchildren; her mother, Patrice Warren, in Burleson; sister, Holly (Ryan) Rusak, in Fort Worth; cousins Mike and Martha Stallard in Fort Worth; and her greatest friends, Cindy Myrick, in Tyler, Texas; Amy Knusta, in Fort Worth; Nicki Turpin, in Fort Worth; Shawnda Hennesay in Burleson; and Jodie Bosco in Eden Prairie, Minn.

Because Staci always insisted on having the last word: "To my girls: I love you always, always, always. Pinky promise."