Donna Louise Burke

Donna Louise Burke was born January 3, 1947 in Gilmer, Texasto Charles and Ouida Yarborough, she passed away on April 10, 2008. Donna is survived by her husband J. D. Burke; son,Chris Frosch and wife Rhonda; son, Mike Frosch and wife Maria; son, Brandon Frosch and wife Jennifer; son Shawn Burke and wife Felicia, and daughter, Lynetta and Bri Burke. Also survived by grandchildren; Courtney Frosch, Cameron Frosch, Heather Frosch, Chelsea Frosch, Jonathan Martinez, Chris Martinez, Valerie Martinez, Madelynn Frosch, Caitlyn Frosch, Aidan Frosch, Brittany Burke and Ian Burke, Korey Savino, Khloe Evett, Madilyn Savino, Landon Savino. Survived by brother, Chuck Yarborough and wife Liz; sister, Lori Edwards and husband Jimmy; brother Jim Yarborough and wife Connie and many other loving family and friends. Services will be on Tuesday, April 15, 2008 at 2:00 PM at the Trinity Life Baptist Church, 2030 Rowlett Road, Garland, Texas.The family will receive friends at New Hope Funeral Home, 500 E. Hwy 80, Sunnyvale, Texas on Monday evening, April 14, 2008, from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM. Most of us grow up knowing that if things work out as they're supposed to, our parents will leave us to survive on what they taught us. But as sick as Donna Louise was throughout the last half of her life, I never really believed my sister would up and take off like this. Part of me is really bitter about it. She's not the last link to our parents, Chuck and Ouida Yarborough, but she's the longest one. Truthfully, she's the only one who remembered a lot of the same things I did. Many of you came to know Donna in the past 20 years or so. Let me tell you a little about the Donna Louise I'm going to miss so much. As a teenager, Donna was just plain evil. At least to the pesky kid brother who flat-out adored her. I'm convinced that the first cavities I ever got were from chewing gum her boyfriends used to give me not to rat her out to Mom and Dad. Not that it worked. Shoot, I probably owe her my career in the newspaper business, since she's the one who taught me to be a snitch. Donna was 10 years older than me. Little Chucky figured she was at least as old as Mom. Only difference is that Mom could (and did) spank me. Donna couldn't, not while the folks were looking, anyway. She taught me to dance. I remember her doing the Frug, and if you're old enough to remember that dance, you're also probably 10 years older than me ... or you had a big sister, as well. I remember her showing me how to do the Jerk - and this was long before I grew up to become one. Then there was the Pony. That's still my best dance step. Like most teens, music played a huge role in Donna's life. She had all the 45s ever made, or at least that's what I thought at the time. Dion. Jackie Del Shannon. Chubby Checker. Fats Domino. The Beach Boys. When she got married the first time, she left those 45s behind. For a while, we listened to them as music. Then they became great vinyl pigeons whenever we wanted to go shoot a little skeet. I could still kick myself over that. Probably a fortune lies in shards in the mountains of Virginia. She also had a few albums, and one of those was how I got in the most serious trouble of my youth with her. It was an original "Meet the Beatles." I "accidentally" left it in the old Ford Fairlane we had at the time. We were living in Georgia - remember, Dad was a career Army officer, so "home" was a relative term - which gets almost as hot as Texas in the summer. Vinyl melts in summer. Likewise, big sisters have a tendency to have meltdowns when they find out their little brothers left their favorite albums in a hot car for a couple of days. Despite that and many other kid-brother-type transgressions, she loved me, yeah, yeah, yeah. She and her first husband Ken Frosch (Chris, Mike and Brandon's dad) had only been together for a month or two when she asked Mom if I could come stay with them. I remember the apartment being dinky, and I remember her housekeeping skills were less than exemplary, which shouldn't have been a surprised, considering that a year after she married and moved out, Mom found orange peels on a plate under her bed. Which, come to think of it, says as much about Mom and it does Donna. But mostly, I remember that summer as time when we would sit together, talk, eat horribly burned fishsticks -- she wasn't much of a cook back then -- and drink a gazillion gallons of Dr Pepper. (Note to other pesky kid brothers: Never drink the last Dr Pepper in the house when your Mom's not around to save your behind.) To this day, I can't drink one without thinking of her. Donna had a wild side a lot of people who met her later in life probably didn't know. She never ran from her past, but I'm pretty sure she didn't brag about it. If there's one good thing that came from it, it was that she never judged any of the rest of us who also went a little wild. She did settle down eventually. She became the quintessential doting grandmother to the kids produced by three of the greatest boys I've ever had the privilege to know, much less be related to - Chris, Mike and Brandon. They are her greatest legacy, and the men they've become was a justifiable source of pride for her. She did find religion, and for her, it was the sanctuary it's supposed to be. Sometimes, she skewed to the fanaticism side, but that's OK. That's pretty much how Donna was (and always will be in my heart): She never did anything halfway. And that includes love. Love for her God. Love for her husband, J.D. Love for her boys. Love for her grandchildren. ESPECIALLY love for her grandchildren. And I'd like to think that somewhere in there, is a little love for a pesky kid brother, who will miss her forever.