Chicago mourns the heartbreaking loss of Chevi Laniece, a radiant soul whose presence brought warmth, laughter, and love to everyone around her. Her passing has left an unimaginable void in the hearts of family, friends, and especially those who knew her not just as a friend, but as family by heart.
To lose someone like Chevi is to lose a piece of yourself. For those closest to her, the pain is raw, the silence heavy. In the words of a dear friend:
“My whole heart, literally. When your close friend tells you they’re dying—what can you do? What can you say? These past three weeks, I’ve been trying to accept reality, trying to be strong. We talked every day, for hours, just laughing, venting, talking shit. Since she’s been in the hospital, she didn’t want calls, but I still called because I needed to. Yesterday, she could barely talk, but she still called me back—because she knew I needed to hear her voice. If I knew yesterday was our last six minutes, I would’ve made it sixty. We always sat on the phone for hours. Our last words were ‘I love you.’ I don’t know if that gives me peace or just makes it hurt more. I’m not okay. Please pray for me.”
Chevi was light in human form—funny, loyal, loving, and real. She was the kind of friend who showed up, listened, laughed with you until it hurt, and reminded you that you mattered. Even while fighting her own battle, she still gave pieces of herself to others.
There’s no preparing for a goodbye like this. No way to soften the blow of losing someone so deeply rooted in your heart. The grief is overwhelming, and the memories—every phone call, every inside joke, every “I love you”—now feel like sacred gifts.
To know Chevi was to love her. And to lose her is to carry her in spirit, always.
Rest peacefully, Chevi Laniece.
You broke our hearts, but you filled them first with so much love.
We will never forget you.
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