In Loving Memory of Lisa Renee Kearney-Doyle
In Loving Memory of Lisa Renee Kearney-Doyle
Lisa Renee Kearney-Doyle, of Stuart FL and Branson MO passed away on August 23, 2026 in Stuart, FL at the age of 50 (12 1/2, if you know you know).
Lisa was born on February 29, 1976 in Reeds Spring, MO to Earl Kearney and Diane Brooks. From the very beginning, her life would be defined by relationships, stories, laughter, children, family, and an unmistakable ability to remember all the little details that everyone else somehow managed to forget.
Lisa had always said that when the time came for her own story to be told, she wanted it told the same way she told stories herself: with the details included. She understood that a life is not really captured by simply listing dates, schools, jobs, and relatives. A life is found in the people we love, the friendships we keep, the stories we repeat, and the ordinary moments that become extraordinary once we realize how much they meant.
Lisa was a proud 13-year graduate of the Reeds Spring School District. Her childhood and school years were filled with friendships and memories that remained important throughout her life. There were many sleepovers with the Kearney girls, along with countless memories made with her childhood best friend, Jeana. Lisa became so close with Jeana’s family that she lovingly referred to Jeana’s mother as “Momma Laura.”
Those early relationships revealed something that would remain true about Lisa throughout her life: she had a genuine heart for people.
That heart followed her into every job she held.
Lisa began working at White Water during high school and college. While attending college, she also worked at Walmart in Warrensburg, Missouri. Over the years, her career would take her to Carousel Learning Center, Our Shepherd Childcare Center, First Baptist Church Children’s Ministry, Cedar Ridge Primary, and Ozark Tiger Paw.
Although the workplaces changed, one thing never did: Lisa loved people, especially children.
Working with young children became one of Lisa’s greatest passions. She affectionately called the children in her care her “little friends,” and that description said a great deal about the way she viewed them. They were never simply children assigned to a classroom or names on a roster. Lisa saw them as individuals. She enjoyed their personalities, listened to their stories, celebrated their accomplishments, comforted them when they needed it, and genuinely enjoyed being part of their lives.
For many children and families, Lisa was far more than someone doing a job. She was a familiar smile, an encouraging voice, and a person who made children feel noticed and loved.
Lisa also held the distinguished title of majority owner of A-to-Z Heating and Cooling. She could talk about capacitors, coils, condensers, and enough other heating-and-air-conditioning terminology to make it sound as though she had personally designed the entire HVAC industry.
The family will freely admit that Lisa probably knew considerably less about actually fixing an air conditioner than her confident vocabulary suggested. And Lisa herself would have laughed at that.
Her willingness to laugh, especially at herself, was part of what made her so enjoyable to be around.
As important as her work was to her, however, nothing compared to family. Family was Lisa’s greatest joy. She treasured time with her two children, Hunter and Zachary, and loved being surrounded by her sisters Melissa Lewis and Cindy Brown, brothers Justin and Mitchell Brooks, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins, and extended family.
Lisa’s definition of family was also considerably broader than whatever happened to be printed on a genealogy chart. Her cousins Lucas and Dustine are perfect examples. Technically, they may have been cousins, but Lisa claimed them as siblings. Once Lisa decided someone belonged in a particular place in her heart, there was apparently very little anyone could do about the official terminology.
And that was Lisa.
She loved deeply, completely, and without worrying much about labels. She treasured family gatherings, conversations, celebrations, familiar traditions, vacations, ordinary afternoons, inside jokes, and the endless stories that accumulated whenever the people she loved were together.
Lisa was a storyteller. And not the abbreviated kind. If Lisa told you about something that happened, you were unlikely to receive only the basic facts. You were going to learn who was there, what they were wearing, what somebody said three conversations earlier, what the weather was doing, what someone ordered for lunch, and probably several related stories that became necessary somewhere along the way. Those details mattered to Lisa because people mattered to Lisa. She remembered the small things. She remembered relationships. She remembered stories. She remembered moments. And now those same stories and moments have become treasured memories for the people who loved her.
Lisa found happiness in concerts, boating, scrapbooking and crafting. She especially enjoyed anything Disney, especially the parks, but much of what she loved ultimately came back to spending time with people.
Her life was not defined by grand titles or impressive accomplishments written on a résumé. It was defined by something much more lasting. It was defined by children who were excited to see her. By coworkers who became friends. By lifelong friendships that survived the passing years. By family members who knew exactly how deeply they were loved. By laughter around a table. By stories told and retold. By little friends who grew up remembering Miss Lisa. And by countless ordinary moments that became important simply because Lisa was there.
Lisa is survived by Kevin W. Doyle; her children, Hunter Kearney-Doyle and Zachary Kearney-Doyle; ; her siblings, Melissa Lewis, Cindy Brown, Justin Brooks, Mitchell Brooks; nieces and nephews, including Wyatt, Drake, Hannah, Kolten, Austin, Dayne, Nevaeh, Adam, Cole, Pryce, Emilie, Andrew and Ross ; cousins, including the siblings-by-Lisa’s-definition, Lucas and Dustine; and a large extended family and circle of friends who will continue to carry her memory with them.
She was preceded in death by Mary Kearney (grandmother), Mike Kearney (grandfather), Euvella Newman (grandmother) Glenda Diane Brooks (mother).
Those who knew Lisa will remember her in different ways. Some will remember the coworker who made work more enjoyable. Some will remember the childhood friend who never really stopped being family. Some will remember the teacher, caregiver, or familiar face who loved her “little friends.” Some will remember the sister, cousin, aunt, daughter, mother, or friend who always wanted to know what was happening in their lives. And many will remember sitting somewhere while Lisa began telling what appeared to be a relatively simple story and realizing several minutes later that they had embarked upon an entire adventure. They would not trade those minutes now for anything. Because the details were Lisa. The stories were Lisa. The laughter was Lisa. Most of all, the love was Lisa.
A Celebration of Lisa’s Life will be held on September 4, 2026 at 10 am at First Baptist Church Branson at 400 S Sunshine Branson, MO 65616. Visitation will start at 9 am at FBC Branson with private viewing first. Graveside will be at Ozarks Memorial Park Cemetery at 1638 E State Hwy 76 Branson, MO 65616. There will be a small reception in the atrium of FBC Branson after the graveside service.
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to FBC Branson Children’s Ministry or Children With Hair Loss organization.
There is no obituary long enough to contain an entire life, especially the life of someone who believed the little details were the very things that made a story worth telling.
Lisa leaves behind far more than dates on a page. She leaves behind her children. Her family. Her friends. Her “little friends.” Her laughter. Her stories. Her memories. And an enormous number of people who are better because, for part of their own story, they were fortunate enough to be part of hers.
And if Lisa could read this herself, there is a very good chance she would tell us we left out a few details.
Then she would start telling us what they were.