I think I'll just share one, my grandmother, who I think you'd have really liked and gotten along with, November.
I don't put her on a pedestal (though I saw her better than she saw herself), and we've had our conflicts and arguments, but the love was not in doubt (save one time when Mom, her daughter, conned both of us, which we kicked ourselves for being so stupid, especially considering the source of the misinformation, that tricked us both). I know some of the things I could share here (which I won't) would get some to see her negatively, whether or not I personally considered it a flaw.
Of course a lot happened, and there's too much to go into. I expect her raising me for the first 4 years of my life had a TREMENDOUS amount of positive influence on me, and it's unfortunate I didn't get to stay with her, or at least be allowed to return (which the courts would not allow--and the legal issues are why I could not run to her when I became a runaway on the streets). But I just want to detail one thing in particular which I think helped me, even may have been necessary to survive to adulthood.
Despite that she wanted me to become more feminine (and how some have laughed at the unexpected pix of me after she dressed me for church), she got me a skateboard as I'd wanted for years on my 14th birthday. (Also relevant, I didn't normally get birthdays, but Mom sent me here for several months while my parents were getting divorced. I was also deeply traumatized from recent events, but not by the divorce, and that was another reason my mom sent me, she was tired of me waking from nightmares screaming which woke her up and hurt her hangovers.)
First, this showed she loved me even when I didn't live up to her expectations and desires. Her love was not conditional, and she was more concerned with me than what the neighbors thought of me. (She went through an elaborate deception so she could get the skateboard as a complete surprise, which is when she dropped me off at the Texas Rose Festival, that being another pleasant childhood memory.)
And perhaps more important, that skateboard became a symbol of not only that, but a way to distract myself from past trauma (though I actually had repressed memories of it for awhile, save when I woke up screaming). The hill I practiced on was a pockmarked road with weeds growing through it, and I fell a lot...without pads. I bled. One time it went into a ditch with yellow jackets in it, and I was NOT going to let them have it, so I arranged my shirt to cover my face as I got it, getting stung several times, and also by bull nettles.
It was slow going, but when I was forced to return to Houston, I was decent with it, and met others who taught me various tricks (on much smoother pavement and flatter ground). And so a little over a year and half of my getting it, I was good enough that I was dubbed "Thrasher" by the other runaway kids I met and mixed with. (Unfortunately, despite sleeping with that skateboard in my arms, it was stolen from me, and one of the few times I remember sobbing. The memory of that loss is as vivid as the memory of the joy getting it. When I'd get a new one a couple of years later with my own money, it just wasn't the same as that gift, and perhaps that's why I gradually lost interest in it, especially as I got into surfing for awhile instead.)
In a lazy way to come up with a name (which I later used here, and still kept it, though I expected to be here for only a few months), I combined that name with another childhood nickname to make "thrasherpix."
I've long since gave that up, but it taught me an important life lesson that I do believe saved my life many times over, and kept me from being even more messed up than I am. You don't fail by falling, you fail by not getting back up, and it's perseverance that builds self esteem rather than not letting them fall down a few times . That is arguably the best lesson any adult can teach a child.
And how I do miss her. I'm even thinking of trying to be able to attend a Day of the Dead celebration just to honor her memory (and a few others), but a lot goes through my head on why maybe it's not such a good idea. I'll do SOMETHING, though. I miss her so much.