Jesse Lee Lewis Jr.

As He Was...

By: Marissanne Lewis-Thompson

“He was burned beyond recognition. You are to remember him as he was.”

I’ve wrestled with the reality of those two sentences. I don’t know if I will ever really be able to fully come to terms with the grim truth that my paw paw, Jesse Lee Lewis Jr. died on New Year’s Day in a house fire that destroyed his body and his home.

Even at 93, his body towered over me. At 32, I still wish I had his height. He always wore a pair of bib overalls, a flannel, t-shirt, a baseball cap, and a toothpick out the side of his mouth. His thick southern accent and laugh echo so clearly in my mind. His beautiful dark skin made his completely white hair stand out. My brother and I were always guaranteed at least two tight and warm hugs from him every time we visited. He sat in the same spot in the living room by the front door in a big comfy chair for as long as I can remember. His calm eyes truly were the windows to his soul and life story.

He took so much pride in his house that he turned into a home. It’s something he never really had growing up. It was a home where he raised six kids with my grandma. A home that saw five generations walk the halls and cycle through the stages of life. A home where all who entered as strangers left as family. It was a home with a massive garden on the side that he tended to so no one would ever go hungry. He grew collard and mustard greens, cucumbers, and tomatoes. He had a gifted hand.

The final page of that chapter closed on January 1, 2026.

My paw paw was found in a position that led firefighters to believe that he was trying to make it out before the smoke overtook him. That truth pains me, but there was another truth in that reality. My paw paw left this world how he entered it. He was resilient, persevered, and had the will to survive. All three were intricately woven into the fabric of his DNA.

He was born on March 21, 1932 in Broken Bow, Oklahoma. So much about his birth is unknown. But what he did know was that his mother, Roseila (OK) died giving birth to him. He never knew his biological father Will Hankins (OK). His mother’s brother, Rev. Jesse L. Lewis Sr. (OK), and his wife, Flora, adopted my paw paw and promised to raise him as their own. That promise was broken.

He shared that full story with me five years after my grandma died. That truth was a hard pill to swallow. He was failed by those who promised to protect him. There were countless moments where he felt like an outcast in that home. But this one in particular stood out. His adoptive father looked at him and said at the dinner table where everyone else but my paw paw had been served that “his plate was broken.” His plate was fine. He wasn’t wanted. That happened multiple times. In the end, he was starved out of his home and family.

He left in the middle of the night with a burlap sack and kerosene oil lamp. He carried that pain for the rest of his life. In so many ways, it shaped how he poured every fiber of his being into his children and grandchildren. He never wanted them to feel abandoned.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

Be it metaphorical or physical, he told me that often as I got older. The weight of this message fully clicked in my mid 20s. It serves as a daily reminder of how incredibly blessed I am to have parents who never failed me. But also a reminder that even in times of darkness you must forge a path forward for yourself that you can be proud of.

He picked cotton in an Oklahoma field as a means of survival and lived with extended family briefly. He joined the U.S. Army on Feb. 18, 1953. He was on active duty stationed at the Fort Hood Base in Fort Hood, Texas, during the Korean War. That saved him. He spent roughly a decade in the military in various capacities including the Army National Reserve and a Porter I. He received the National Defense Service Medal.

Fast forward, he met my grandma working at Brown Nursing Home in Kansas City. She was a nurse and he was an orderly and caregiver. He said she was the best thing that ever happened to him. She was his best friend, wife, the mother of his children, fishing buddy, road trip partner, life teacher, and soulmate. She taught him how to love and how to live. He said he never had a mother to teach him those things, so she did. He adopted her three sons from a previous marriage and raised them as if they were his own. The day she died was the first time I’d ever seen or heard him cry. He loved her 63 years to eternity.

He went on to work at the Charles B. Wheeler Downtown Airport for 4 years. He would later work at the Kansas City International Airport when it opened in November 1972. He led the airport’s maintenance division for Terminal C. Jesse became the first African American to head an international airport team. After 33 years, he retired from KCI in 1993.

He survived the American South. He survived a heart attack. He survived cancer. He survived a devastating car accident that left him with a metal rod in his back. He survived the loss of a son. He survived COVID-19. He survived the loss of my grandma.

Not long after my grandma died a tiny black and white pitbull puppy came into his life. My Auntie Marilyn named him Star because the white patch of fur on his chest looked like one. The little guy was the runt of the litter, but he had a lot of spunk. In his own way, Star was THE star. If digging massive holes in the yard for my mom and auntie to fall in was an Olympic sport, he would have been a gold medalist.

I think he needed my paw paw as much as my paw paw needed him. Star was “his child.” He always found a way to squeeze his growing frame into my paw paw’s lap. That’s where he felt safe. That’s where he felt loved. Star was a champion of his breed and his loyalty was unmatched. Protecting and guarding my aging paw paw and their home was a job only he could do. All dogs go to heaven and Star is no exception. Star earned his wings and I have no doubt he’s cuddling with my paw paw and grandma right now.

My paw paw is more than how his story ended.

His body may no longer be something I can recognize, but his resilience, perseverance, and audacity to fight to survive at the age of 93 is something I can. You came into this world feeling unloved and unwanted, but I’m at peace knowing you left this world loved and incredibly missed.

“I love you too, paw paw! See you on the next round.”

Jesse is joined in death by his beloved wife Dorothy W. Lewis (MO), his fur child Star Lewis, (MO) his adoptive parents Rev. Jesse L. Lewis Sr. and Flora (OK), his biological parents Roseila and Will Hankins (OK), in-laws Jesse L. (TN) and Emma O. Washington (MO); his son Kenneth M. Harris (MO); great grandson Frank Raney (MO); aunts and uncles in-law: Eva Buchanan and Winifred Buchanan (MO), Private First Class Wendell Buchanan and Franklin B. Buchanan (MO); cousins Lawrence L.D. Lewis (Kansas City) and Gertrude Lewis.

He leaves behind to cherish his memories – Family friend Alma Rollie of (Missouri); his brother and sister in-law – Julius E. Lewis (Linnie) of (Broken Bow, OK); sons Ralph Harris (N. Jean) of (St. Joseph, MO); Mark S. Bryant Sr. of (Kansas City, MO); Anthony Weatherspoon of (Kansas City, MO); Donald Harris of (Kansas City, MO); two daughters, Marilyn Lewis Thompson (Lloyd) of (Grandview, MO), Angela Lewis-Thompson (José) of (Kansas City, MO), son Jesse L. Lewis III of (Kansas City, MO), daughters Yvonne Thompson (Kansas City, MO) and Linda Durham (Kansas City, MO). Grandchildren – James Boone of (St. Joseph, MO); David Lee K. Harris of (California); William Frederick Harris (Donna) of (Cebu, Philippines); LaNita Raney of (Denver); Laura Wheeler of (Kansas City, MO); Marissanne Lewis-Thompson (Jacob) of (St. Louis, MO); Evan Lewis-Thompson of (Kansas City, MO); Mark S. Bryant Jr. of (Kansas City, MO); McClain Bryant Macklin (Joseph) of (Kansas City, MO); Vincent Lewis (Kansas) and Jessica Lewis of (Kansas City, MO). Great grandchildren: Rachael Wilson (Zach), Jamil Boone, Demetrius Boone, Victoria Harris, Sean Harris, Zhave Harris, Malcom Raney, Alysia Igwebu, Andrew McDonald, Amina Wheeler, Robert Wheeler, Mark S. Bryant III, Micah Joseph Macklin. Great great grandchildren Carter and Mavry Jean Wilson. And a host of family and friends.