That morning felt odd to junior Alei Harris; odd but nice. It was the first time in five years that her grandmother spent the morning before school with her. Leaving Alei’s room, she weakly wrapped her arms around Alei as best she could.

“I hope you know I love you so much,” her grandmother said.

The next time Alei saw her grandmother, Lillian Robinson — special education paraprofessional of 26 years, the woman known by all as “Miss Lily” and the person who acted as Alei’s defacto mother — had died.

“She cared for others more than anyone cared for her,” Alei said. “She made sure that people knew that if they saw Miss Lily, there was nothing bad to say about her. I know it’s hard for me, but I know it’s hard for (the community) as well.”

Robinson’s family invites students and staff to honor her life at Allen Dave Funeral Home Saturday, Sept. 6 from noon to 2 p.m.

From the Bottom Up

Before finding stability, Robinson’s childhood was turbulent.

She was born Sept. 18, 1961, in South Texas and, shortly after, placed in foster care — hopped between families and eventually landed in her biological father’s custody. But instead of stability, Robinson received beatings, according to Robinson’s daughter, Dorian Harris. 

She said Robinson’s resemblance to her biological mother sent her step mom into fits of physical and verbal abuse. That childhood trauma carried into her adulthood and eventually parenthood, too.

“It made her not be able to identify if someone is there for her, or someone actually loved her,” Harris said. “It confused her. She didn’t know how to pick and choose. She didn’t know if you were going to turn on her.”

Robinson met Harris’s father in 1982. Two years later they had Harris, but her father refused to take part in their life “unless they raised Harris Muslim.” Robinson declined and became a single mother of three.

Robinson took on just as many jobs, which created a distance between her and Harris. As their connection strained, so did Robinson’s heart. From a family prone to heart disease, Robinson had her first heart attack in 2000 in front of a 16-year-old Harris.

“It terrified me,” Harris said. “Five years after that, my grandma passed away from the same thing, so that frightened me. I’ve always had in the back of my mind, we never know how long our heart’s gonna last. And it made me closer to her.”

Desperate to help, Harris attended every cardiology appointment with her mom, documented every medication, every allergy and every doctor; even their address. Still, Robinson had three more heart attacks within her life.

“We have to do everything we can, even though we’re not preventing (heart disease),”’ Harris said. “All we’re doing is just giving our body a chance to just have a few more months or in between heart attacks, or a few more years, or we’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

Reconnecting

On May 10, 2009, Harris had Alei. While the heart attack pushed Harris and Robinson together, Alei was their glue; it became a chance for Robinson to prove herself as a mother.

“She stopped being so defensive about everything,” Harris said. “I took the chance to explain to her, ‘I know it wasn’t your fault. I know what you became wasn’t your fault. I know that if it was a different situation, you would have been different, and I forgive you for everything.’”

In between Harris’s heavy work schedule, Robinson raised Alei like her own. Alei thanks her grandma for crafting who she is today.

“She taught me everything my mom couldn’t,” Alei said. “She always told me ‘You’re a leader and you are strong, whether you think you’re not, everybody’s their own. Even when you don’t feel strong in your lowest moments; even whenever you feel like you’re a follower, you are the next leader. Your friends are leaders. Your classmates, y’all are all leaders of this generation, so be proud of that.’”

Dedicated to Those in Need

Robinson’s worked with special needs students since 1997 in Aldine ISD, where she started as a cafeteria worker and later transferred.

“She had a passion for (special needs students) to excel, she’s keen on that. That was her number one priority,” Harris said. “They were given less of a hand in life, and they were starting so far behind us, and that’s how she felt living in a (her father’s) house, so she really identified with her students.”

Robinson retired from Aldine ISD in May 2018, but Robinson felt a calling to those students. By October, Robinson answered that call, joining Caney Creek High School’s special education program.

“It really wasn’t just a job for her,”  Special Education Department Chair Krista Jenkins said. “She definitely treated these kids with compassion, kindness and most of all patience. You could tell she loved her job. She loved being with these kids more than anything.”

Robinson’s career wavered in 2022 after a third heart attack, prompting Harris and Alei to move in. Alei argues Robinson was the one who

ended up supporting them.

“It was just nice to have someone to talk to,” Alei said. “My mom, she’s always tired after work, so I didn’t want to bother her. But my grandma, she was there every single day, she waited for me every single day on that couch to get home and talk about our days.”

Last Goodbyes

Robinson’s buzzing conversations, gospel music and warm smile brought their home to life. But when Alei got home from school Aug. 25, it was dead silent.

Earlier that afternoon after showering, Robinson sat down to do her makeup, preparing for her nail appointment that day. Feeling off, she laid on her bed and never got up after her fourth and final heart attack.

Robinson’s husband of 13 years, Charles Robinson found her and called EMS that afternoon. Constables then informed Harris, who requested they leave Robinson in the home.

“I just held her in her bed and cried on her and said, ‘I’m sorry. I wish you could have been here longer,’” Harris said. “But she’s not struggling to breathe anymore. She’s not getting lightheaded. She’s happy. I just wish that we had more time. I knew our time was running out, but, you know, just wish we had more.”

Harris mentally prepared for her mother’s death years ahead, especially since Robinson’s 2022 heart attack. Alei was the opposite.

“I couldn’t breathe,” Alei said. “I was thinking, ‘She’s gone. I don’t want to be here either.’ She was the woman who walked on this earth and gave me life. It was like, I felt I needed to tell her that she just passed away.”

One of the most painful parts to Alei is leaving life skills students questioning. As she passed the life skills breakfast table last week, students asked Alei, “Where’s Miss Lilly? Where’s Miss Lilly? We haven’t seen Miss Lilly in forever.” 

Alei could only muster up that she retired.

“I couldn’t tell him that she passed away,” Alei said. “I sat in the corner where I usually sit and I just started bawling and crying. These kids will never see her again. Yeah, the kids that started their freshman year with her and now her senior will never see her again.”

Krista Jenkins feels a noticeable absence in the classrooms without Robinson, describing her relationship with the students as one of a kind.

Life skills teacher Sarah Jenkins, who worked with Robinson since Aldine ISD, credits Robinson’s rough childhood to her unique connection.

“That’s why she was to drawn to those kids,” Sarah Jenkins said. “To make sure they had a better life than what they were getting; better than what she had. There was like a magnetic connection with Robinson. She had a special connection.”

Even in death, Robinson’s story still connects with students, leaving a legacy of impacted lives; a legacy Harris looks to spread.

“She taught me no matter what card you’re dealt,” Dorian said. “Whether it’s your health or it’s your parents, just know you can overcome anything and lead the life of your dreams. Just like she did.”