Her mother remembers a child who gravitated toward responsibility early. Renee was the one who stayed behind to help clean up after family gatherings. The one who checked in on neighbors. The one who noticed when someone was struggling and quietly stepped in without being asked. Those instincts followed her into adulthood, shaping every decision she made.
She moved to Minneapolis chasing something softer. A life where she could build a home with her wife, where days felt less sharp, where kindness didn’t feel like a liability. Together, they made a small, imperfect world: shared meals, shared jokes, shared plans that didn’t reach far beyond next year. There was a little boy, too—tucked into bed each night, read to, reassured, loved. He had already lost one parent. Renee made it her mission to make sure he never felt alone again.
