On February 16th around 2am, my aunt Kristen Marie Benskin passed away - she left peacefully, surrounded by family, and knowing that she fought her absolute hardest to stay with us as long as she could. My aunt Kristen was the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and the memories I have of her are some of my fondest.

She was always thinking, and loved a good challenge. If she wasn’t at ABC little school shaping young minds, you could find her on her bike zipping down Chandler Blvd, and then up Van Nuys to our apartment. She loved to play darts at MacLeod’s Brewery, and when it closed briefly due to the pandemic, she turned our garage into a dart alley. Most importantly, she always made time for me if I asked. Kristen Marie Benskin never let anyone take her joy away, or tell her what to do. She is survived by her daughter, my cousin, Madelyn Katherine Joy Thompson, whom she loved more than anyone in this world. She is a beautiful example of what it means to fight for the things that you care about, and she fought everyday.

When she was initially diagnosed with breast cancer she took it gracefully, continued to live her life to the fullest, and she fought like hell. She beat it once, but the cancer came back just as strong as she was. My aunt Kristen didn’t “lose her fight to cancer.” She fought one of life’s hardest fights for 5 long years, and it brings me peace to believe that after a lifetime of fighting, she was strong enough to call a truce with the very disease she knew would take her life. Kristen did not lose. Cancer patients do NOT lose. She took one last deep breath, let go, and crossed bravely over the threshold to the cosmos.

She is the bravest of the brave, and I look to the sky every morning and thank her for her bravery. I thank her for making me feel at home amongst my family. I thank her for getting to know my friends, for fighting for me, and for her love and understanding. I’m going to miss her voice, her laugh, her flawless style, playing backgammon with her, her cooking - but I know she’s not gone, and I feel her presence stronger than ever.

Her family nickname came from my father’s side of the family. The French word for aunt is “tante,” which is very hard for an English speaking infant to say, so I made it my own. Over the years, her nickname meant different things to me, but as I wrap up this obituary I am certain of it’s definition:

Tata (n): the fiercest female, and my best friend.

Sleep tight, Virgo sister. You always told me we had angels watching over us, and now you’ve joined their ranks. You will be dearly missed, never forgotten, and I promise to fight the good fight until I’m sure I’ve made you proud. You are my sunshine. Rest In Peace.

Your nephew and friend,

Jon-Luc Alexander-Marc Dargenton