"When I first heard Leia’s story, it stopped me in my tracks."

She stood before a videographer and me — just a sixth grader at the time — and spoke with a courage and clarity far beyond her years. She talked about her family’s financial struggles, the emotional toll of uncertainty, and the quiet heartbreak of watching her mother battle Alzheimer’s disease.
 
As she spoke, I felt my chest tighten. By the time she finished, I was dabbing at my eyes.  Just a few years ago, I walked that same road with my own mother, who lived with dementia until her passing. I remember the exhaustion. The grief. The helplessness of watching someone you love slowly slip away while still sitting right in front of you.

It was one of the hardest seasons of my life.

And I was an adult.

Long after the school video project ended, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it must be like for two young girls — Leia and her younger sister Natalie — to carry that kind of emotional weight at such an impressionable age.

I remember thinking, this is so unfair.

No child should have to learn this kind of grief so early. No child should have to grow up this fast.

I worried about them. I worried about what would happen as their mother's condition continued to decline.  
 
I worried about how much more heartbreak they would be asked to shoulder before they even reached high school.
 

So this past holiday season, about eight months after I first met Leia, I approached former colleagues, friends, and a fellow Rotarian, Jeff Thiel, to share an idea.

Why not help the students and their family through a Rotary service project?

We launched an Adopt-a-Family drive, where Rotary members and community partners came together to help meet the students’ wish list for the holidays. Leia was now in seventh grade and sister Natalie in fifth grade. At first glance, their requests looked like those of any young girls — athletic shoes, hoodies, cozy blankets. But there were also quiet, personal touches: journals and mechanical pencils that spoke of deeper reflection. 

Just before Christmas, we worked through their school principal to deliver the gifts in person at their home — a modest, renovated garage where the family is currently living. We met their mother and father, and in that moment, the project became something far more human than a holiday drive. Because, amid hugs and handshakes, we had surrounded the Mezquita family with care, dignity, and tangible support.

We didn’t fix everything. We didn’t solve Alzheimer’s. We didn’t erase hardship. But we knew we accomplished something important. 

When Leia later wrote to thank donors, she said something I will never forget:

“In moments when exhaustion and grief took over, you were the light. You reminded me that we’re not alone, even when it feels that way.”

That sentence alone reminded me why Rotary matters. 

Service is not always about grand gestures.  Sometimes it's about presence.  Sometimes it’s about empathy. Sometimes it’s about standing in the gap for a family who is barely holding it together and saying, we see you. we care. we’re here.  

Leia’s mother had developed early-onset Alzheimer’s in her 40s, and it changed everything for her family. Rotary cannot take away every hardship a family faces, but it can remind them that even in the darkest moments, compassion still shows up — and community still surrounds them.

Leia had captured hearts at her school district’s Speech Contest, speaking as her future self — a doctor — addressing her family’s present reality, watching a loved one struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. She shared her dream of becoming a doctor one day so she can help other families facing Alzheimer’s. After community supporters presented Leia and her family with Christmas gifts, she thanked donors: “Because of you, I believe again in goodness, in humanity, in people who choose love even when it’s difficult. What you’ve done has left a permanent mark on my heart. I will never forget it.”

— Anthony Millican
 Rotary Club of Chula Vista Eastlake