Rebecca Adams

Rebecca "Keka" Adams, born Ovalle, was 43 years old, and she spent every one of those years loving her people hard. She was born March 15, 1983, in Los Angeles, and somewhere along the way she made it to Arizona, bringing that same free-spirited California energy with her. As a kid she was wild in the best way — the kind of stories her family still laughs about and probably always will. She never really lost that spirit. She just pointed it toward the people she loved most. Keka worked as an admin at Keyence Corp from 2022 until this year, but she was never a person who fit into one box. She earned her life insurance license. She got her notary license. If there was something to learn or a way to be useful, she figured it out. Her family called her a jack-of-all-trades, and she wore that like a badge of honor. Her daughter Mya remembers a night she was overwhelmed at work, alone and covered in caramel, and called her mom just to vent. It was 4 a.m. It didn't matter. Keka got up, drove the 25 minutes in her pajamas, and showed up just to sit with her. When Mya got home later that day, she found her bed made and a warm bath drawn. That was Keka. She ran toward the people she loved, every single time, no matter the hour or the distance. She loved cooking, she loved music, she loved dancing in her kitchen, and she loved Mickey Mouse with the enthusiasm of a kid at Disneyland. She wanted to travel more. She was honest to a fault, stubborn in the most lovable way, funny even when things were hard, and fiercely, unshakably loyal. Keka faced cancer the way she faced everything — head on. She died September 5, 2026, in Gilbert, Arizona, peacefully, with her husband and two children around her. She is with her mother, Lila, now. She is survived by her husband, Charles Adams; her children, Mya Adams and Christian Adams; her father, Ricardo; her mother-in-law, Gladys; her tio, Adrian; and her tia, Kayla. She was preceded in death by her mother, Lila, and her father-in-law, Charles. Keka left clear instructions for all of this: don't cry, don't be sad, drink, laugh at the stupid things she did, and throw a carne asada. So do that. Do it for her.