Lela Akin—proud mama, daredevil granny and shameless "Bernie bro"—left us at 1:15 p.m. Wednesday in Parker City, Indiana, surrounded by the people she loved and the community she cherished.

Born Lela Ann Huntsinger on Dec. 17, 1942, to Hortense and Robert Huntsinger, she was a lifelong caregiver to friends, family and strangers. For decades, Lela worked as a certified nursing assistant, looking after the sick and vulnerable with the patience and practical tenderness her "Mother" and "Daddy" instilled.

But caregiving was never just her job. It's who she was.

Lela was fiercely independent. She suffered heartbreak, particularly in her first marriage, but refused to let it define her. She rebuilt a life on her own terms and took great pride in the hard-won strength that followed. Her second husband, the late Walter Gene Akin, a U.S. Air Force veteran and proudly independent truck driver, opened a whole new world to her when they met in the mid-1990s. Walter, an amateur pilot, wooed her with plane rides before the two hit the road together, traveling cross country in his semi-truck. A simple but deceptively wise man, Walter became her partner in an unexpected American adventure.

Lela had a deep faith in God, though she had little patience for the harsh judgments of organized religion. She accepted people who were different from her and worked hard to understand all walks of life. She didn't need everyone to think or live as she did in order to respect them.

She loved her neighbors in Parker City, where she was raised and ultimately died. She loved her country, too, and one of the few things that truly troubled her was the fear that her country was falling apart. Still, she never gave up faith that America would always be beautiful.

She loved getting sweaty and digging in the dirt. Gardening and tending flowers and vegetables were among her great joys. She also loved music, especially George Jones and the other greats of classic country. She delighted in old songs and vintage YouTube clips and often sent her family carefully curated soundtracks to wake up to in their inboxes.

She reveled in Facebook—and proved that social media could, in fact, be a force for good. She loved connecting with family and friends across the country, relishing their photos, following their lives and celebrating the diverse relationships she had built with everyone from journalists to drag queens to fine artists. She embodied empathy, walking in others' shoes without ever seeing their feet. (Speaking of feet, she also prided herself on DIY mani-pedis, resulting in what her family will attest were the softest tootsies.)

Lela was tiny but mighty. She was physically strong and took great pride in getting down on the floor and up into playground jungle gyms to play with her beloved "boys"—her three great-grandsons, Ethan, Abel and Hendrix. She loved sweets and had little interest in resisting them, particularly Little Debbie Nutty Buddy bars.

She faithfully donated to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital despite fretting endlessly about grocery prices, medical bills, and whether she had enough to cover what she owed—no matter how much she had safely tucked away in the bank. Her children spent decades trying to convince her to relax into the life she had fought so hard for and so richly deserved. Eventually, her financial anxiety attacks became charming Lela-isms: a family trait to be lovingly, constantly and unsuccessfully discouraged.

Lela was a breast cancer survivor. When diagnosed, she fought with a vengeance, enduring aggressive treatment that ultimately led to a heart attack. She won.

More than a decade later, upon learning she had terminal Stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to her bones, Lela was adamant about not "wasting" her limited time on ravaging treatments. She wanted comfort at home, surrounded by "my people." Her children moved in and did everything they could to honor that wish. They laughed a lot. Their partners made it possible.

Lela smoked cigarettes for much of her adult life. She was never proud of the habit, and her children spent years trying—sometimes begging—her to quit. She remained fiercely protective of her right to make her own choices until the very end.

And the people who cared for her in those final days made all the difference. The family offers its deepest gratitude to our Heart to Heart Hospice team—nurse Tonya, aide Kelsea, social worker Rina and chaplain Les—for making what seemed impossible tolerable. They made Lela's final days a blessing rather than a tragedy, surrounding her and her family with dignity, compassion and love.

Lela is survived by her children, Rob Bailey-Millado and his spouse, "Sweet" Nate Bailey-Millado, of New York City, and Kat Downing and her husband, James Downing, of Parker City. James was, in Lela's eyes, her daughter's—and her own—"knight in shining armor."

She is also survived by her pride-and-joy grandson, Charlie Lynn, and his supermom spouse, Brook Lynn, of Selma, the parental units to her trio of aforementioned "boys."

Lela was preceded in death by her first husband of 30-plus years, Charles Raymond Bailey, and her cherished sisters, Elizabeth Huntsinger Hart and Ruth Huntsinger Butler. She is survived by Ruth's treasured children, nieces Patsy Reiber and Becky Butler Thompson, and nephew, Dave Butler, all of Parker City. (And their kind, generous and gorgeous children and spouses.)

Special, heartfelt thank-yous go to the Butlers [not to mention "adopted" daughter Kendra Wine Chavez] for feeding us during Lela's hospice journey. Their loving kindness sustained us when we needed it most.

Lela's greatest source of relief was the realization that her children had finally found "their people." She spent years convinced they might never figure that out. Once they did, her relief was immense. She declared it so often—and with such heartfelt gratitude—that eventually it became the family's running joke. But beneath the laughter was something very serious: She wanted her children to be loved, and she could rest easy knowing they were.

In her final days, Lela wistfully summed up what she ultimately wanted from life—and what she felt she had received—with characteristic simplicity:

"All I wanted was a little more time. That's all I wanted, a little time. I sure got it. And I'm very grateful … for drugs."

In lieu of flowers, the family invites those wishing to honor Lela's memory to make a donation to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in her name. A celebration of Lela's life will be announced at a later date.