The sad news came by e-mail: Yolanda Ramos, a former community mobilization specialist for the Safe Streets organization, had died June 16, at only 43 years old.

The Parkland woman had suffered a brain aneurysm last year, and fought her way back from life support to real life. Then, without warning, she died.

Because the single mom had no life insurance, there’s no money for the funeral the family wants, Safe Streets’ Moni Hoy wrote in his e-mail. A friend set up a memorial fund at Wells Fargo Bank, but more money was needed.

So Yolanda’s children held a car wash Tuesday afternoon to earn money toward the $4,000 funeral expenses.

In what kind of community do teenagers and young adults just starting their own lives have to wash cars to bury their mother?

That’s what I wondered as I hit the cash machine for $20 and drove the dusty minivan to Spanaway to meet Yolanda’s children.

They are son Lee Ramos, 26; daughters Tamar, 25, and Dannielle, 24; and son Chris, 22. Daughter Mintae Straughter is 19, daughter Makaylia Young is 15 and son Aaron Young is 14.

And there are April Camacho, 20, and Leona Cooper, 18, who consider themselves Yolanda’s daughters.

It was a fluid family in the best sense. As one child grew up and moved out, Yolanda would welcome another. She did it with limited money, said Lee Ramos, who will move back to Pierce County from Portland.

“She always cooked big,” he said of her hospitality. “Her motto was, ‘I’d rather have them in here with me than have them lost on the street.’ She wanted to direct them rather than let the street direct them.”

Tuesday, most of Yolanda’s kids were on the street, waving signs directing drivers toward the Shell service station at 159th Street and Pacific Avenue.

When a car pulled in, they and their friends swarmed it with soap and sponges, hoses, glass cleaner and towels.

Yolanda’s mother, Minnie Webb, 64, of Parkland, sat under an umbrella, minding the bake sale.

“The Lord blessed me with her,” Webb said. “She was premature.”

And she was born with an undiagnosed tangle of nerves and blood vessels at the back of her skull.

Yolanda was a star, said Wanda Rochelle, Safe Streets mobilization services manager. After working against domestic violence, she came to Safe Streets in summer 2007 and released her warmth and confidence on the people of Parkland, Spanaway and Midland.

She persuaded Pacific Lutheran University to donate office space. She encouraged people in apartment complexes to form crime watches. She brought Safe Streets’ message to neighborhood meetings and helped PLU-area businesses organize around safety issues.

“Yolanda was the sweetest person on Earth,” said Steve Jewell, Safe Streets deputy director. “She was the most gracious and loving and forgiving person you could ever hope to run across.”

Then the aneurysm almost killed her, Rochelle said.

Her colleagues donated vacation days until she was eligible for disability, but they could not protect against budget cuts. Last fall, when a source of funding ran out, Yolanda, who was the most recent hired, was the first laid off.

Her colleagues remained her friends. On Tuesday, they turned up to wash cars, or pay generously to have theirs washed.

Ruth Kohler, who manages the PLU Wellness Clinic, worked next to Yolanda. She arrived in a clean car, handed over a $100 bill and turned to leave.

“She was the most cheerful, happy person I have ever known,” Kohler said, and begged pardon for crying.

Adam Ouellette, 23, didn’t know Yolanda, but pulled in to have his mom’s car washed, though he could hardly afford the $10 he gave.

“I saw the word ‘funeral’ on a sign,” he said. “I had a daughter who died stillborn at 21 weeks.”

Gifts like those dissolved any reservations Lee Ramos had about holding a car wash to pay for his mother’s burial. The other kids came up with the idea because it was something they could do for their mom together, with the resources they had.

As it turned out, they found joy and laughter in the day, and one thing more: the knowledge that, even in death, Yolanda gave a measure of peace to people with whom she shared this community.

“It’s tough right now without her,” Mintae Straughter said. “But she’s in a better place. She’s having fun looking down on us.”

Kathleen Merryman: 253-597-8677

kathleen.merryman@thenewstribune.com