Janie Lois Chavira

The world got a little quieter this week with the passing of Janie Lois Chavira, a woman who could talk longer than your phone battery could last and somehow knew everyone, everywhere. Born on January 17th, 1955, she passed away peacefully on May 3rd, 2025, leaving behind a family who adored her—and whose ears are now strangely ringing in the silence.

Janie was the original social network. She didn’t need Facebook to keep up with people; she just needed a phone with unlimited minutes. If you called her, plan to sit down—conversations lasted hours, covered everything from the weather to your childhood regrets, and somehow included at least two people you both knew in common.

She was never one to sugarcoat anything—blunt as a butter knife, but with the warmth of a thousand hugs. If you needed honesty, you got it. If you needed love, you got that too. Usually both, in the same breath.

Her greatest joy in life was her family, especially her daughters, granddaughters and great grandson, to whom she devoted her time, her energy, and her endless advice (solicited or not).

When she wasn’t on the phone or bragging about her grandkids, she was likely in her garden, talking to her flowers, or locked into a puzzle like it owed her money. She also enjoyed sitting on the porch with her beloved spouse, watching the town of Marble Falls, Texas grow up around them. From that porch, she saw kids turn into parents, shops come and go, and neighbors become lifelong friends—with a little play-by-play commentary along the way.

She leaves behind her daughters Adalaide Chavira and Angelica Chavira, granddaughters Gabrielle Chavira and DesiRay Chavira, great grandson Mateo Chavira, spouse Enrique Esparza, and son in law Ramiro Delgado. She also leaves behind her beloved sisters and brothers, and a long list of friends, neighbors, and honorary family members who all knew that with her, you were loved fiercely—even if she told you exactly what she thought while doing it.

Janie leaves the legacy of strong women, good stories, and at least three plants no one knows how to care for.

In her honor, have a long phone call with someone you love, speak your truth (with flair), and maybe pick up a puzzle—just don’t lose any pieces, or she’ll find you.