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Maisa only graced the earth for a short 14 years, but her impact ripples through space and time.

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She started reading at a very early age because she knew that she would have a lot to absorb in her short time here. She spent as much time as possible outdoors in nature, often choosing to read in forts constructed with sheets and branches or high in a tree where she felt safest. When offered assistance she would refuse, declaring even as a toddler, “No, I do! I do by self!” It was clear early in life and it is clear now: Maisa is in charge.

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Maisa’s knowledge of astronomy, mythology and history often extended well beyond her years. We questioned how she knew the things that she knew and now determine that she must have arrived with much of this wisdom already embedded in her DNA. She was always teaching us things. She still is.

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She was talented musically. She played the trombone at school and taught herself piano at home. During her last weekend here she tried to teach her mom about polyrhythms. Years later her mom is still trying to figure that one out.

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Maisa loved to cook, create through art and self expression, spend time with her family, and spend time in nature studying the night sky. She looked at the stars as if she were reading another language that she already knew. She needed time alone to recover from a world that often misunderstood her; a world that could feel too loud, too overwhelming, and oftentimes, too unjust.

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From an early age, Maisa showed traits that, in hindsight, align with neurodivergence - traits that were not fully recognized or understood within the systems we turned to for support.

We sought help in the places families are told to go - through education, healthcare, and mental health professionals. We asked many questions, shared concerns, shared research, and followed the guidance we were given.

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Yet much of what we experienced was a disconnect between what we were seeing and what was being acknowledged. Our concerns were often minimized or reframed, and our lived experience as her parents did not always align with the interpretations we received.

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There were many moments when we felt unheard, when our concerns were dismissed, and when we were encouraged to override what we knew in our hearts.

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Over time, this created a painful gap between lived reality and professional interpretation, one that left us without the support and care Maisa needed.

This is a reflection of a reality many families face: that even when help is sought, systems are not always equipped to fully see or support neurodivergent children.

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We did see the signs, but the systems we turned to were not able to see our child.

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Maisa deserved to be seen, understood, and supported in her fullness.

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The most important lessons Maisa taught us are the ones about kindness, perception, curiosity, justice, and social constructs. These are the ones that seem to be the most difficult for humans to learn.

The very biggest lesson she taught and is still teaching us is the one about unconditional love.

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Maisa’s physical presence is missed dearly by those who know and love her.

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We are still able to connect with her in many ways, especially in nature, and her work continues through those who carry forward her spirit of justice, curiosity, and truth. May her life continue to guide us toward a world where every child, every human, is truly seen.