
Lorne Adam Card

Obituary
Lorne Adam Card, 53, passed away on March 6, 2026. Born on May 6, 1972, Lorne was a beloved resident of The Woodlands, Texas. He will be remembered as a devoted husband, loving father, mentor, and friend. A true leader in every sense, he led with kindness, dedication, and compassion — his steady presence a source of comfort to those around him and the foundation of meaningful, lasting relationships.
Lorne earned his Bachelor's degree from California State University, Northridge, and his Master's degree from Arizona State University. In 2019, he and his young family made Texas their home, beginning a cherished new chapter rooted in love and commitment to one another.
Professionally, Lorne worked as a Board Certified Behavior Analyst, providing ABA therapy to individuals with autism. He served his clients with extraordinary care and patience, while also inspiring and challenging the colleagues around him — leaving a lasting mark through both his expertise and his character.
Lorne is survived by his loving wife of 20 years, Essie Card; daughters Keira, Kinzy, Kalis, and Korra; his father, Ron Card, and his wife Misty; mother-in-law, Martha Villasenor; and countless cherished friends and coworkers. He was preceded in death by his mother, Nancy.
Above all else, Lorne treasured his role as a father. He found joy in anything that brought him alongside his daughters — his life was at its fullest when he was with them and Essie. He loved playing video games, a passion he happily shared with his eldest daughter, Keira. He delighted in technology and tinkering with computers, even building custom machines for his youngest daughters, Kalis and Korra. He taught his daughter Kinzy to skateboard and shared his love of music with all of them, always encouraging them to try new things.
Lorne had a deep love for animals and gardening, filling their home and yard with both. He also played hockey with great enthusiasm—an endeavor that came with more than a few broken bones along the way. He valued fitness and lifelong learning, and strongly believed in the connection between a healthy body and a healthy mind. You could often find him listening to a podcast or diving into a newly published article, always curious and thoughtfully engaged with the world of ideas.
In all that he did, Lorne lived with quiet humility and deep intention, always guided by what mattered most to him — the love he held for his family.
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He always went the extra mile. Even after we were no longer at the same clinic, Lorne and Essie continued to offer support, encouragement, and care. That kind of love does not stay neatly inside the walls of a job. It spills over. It roots itself deeply. It becomes part of the lives it touches.
Lorne was funny, brave, and deeply passionate. Above all, he loved his family fiercely. He loved ours in a way that felt personal and genuine, like we mattered to him beyond titles or roles. I know there are no perfect words for a loss like this, but I hope his precious girls one day read words like these and know their dad was not only a hero, but an extraordinary human being. His life was like a lantern in the dark. He lit the way for so many, and the light he leaves behind will continue to shine in the lives he changed. That is the kind of legacy that outlives a person.
Lorne had a remarkable gift for connecting with his clients, especially the adolescents who so deeply needed his steady guidance. He was warm and compassionate, truly passionate about supporting the growth and progress of everyone he worked with. Though quiet and focused, his presence was deeply welcoming and reassuring. Lorne brought life to those around him, and it was always a brighter day at the office with him there.
Lorne carried his expertise with humility, never seeking recognition despite the exceptional skill and dedication he brought to his work, actually he brought this to everything he did. His impact was profound — touching countless families and changing the lives of so many children for the better.
I will be forever grateful and hold onto the memories of my time spent with Lorne, at the office or at his home with the love of his life, Essie, marveling and sampling his many planted fruit trees…
Our community has lost a great man…He will be deeply missed by the many families he supported, the colleagues who had the privilege of working beside him, and the countless lives he touched.
I ended up getting the job, and during my first supervision session with him, I was soo intimidated. He was so direct, so clear with his feedback.(Which years later I learned the value of this)
But very quickly, that turned into something else. I became completely amazed by the way he understood the brain and how it affects behavior. At the time, I was in college planning to become an occupational therapist. After meeting Lorne, I changed my entire path and decided to go to graduate school for ABA, because I wanted to have the same knowledge he did.
And then I got to graduate school… and I remember feeling disappointed. Not because it wasn’t valuable, but because it made me realize just how rare Lorne’s level of knowledge really was.
Later, Lorne took me on as his intern at the adult and adolescent clinic. I was terrified. I didn’t want to branch out to older clients at all, but I did it because I trusted him.
And that’s where I started to see beyond his knowledge.
One day, I was talking to him about my then boyfriend (now my husband) and he gave me advice. It wasn’t something I had asked for, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.
And in that moment, I saw something different in him. Not just his intelligence, but his wisdom… that felt protective and genuine.
Up until then, I hadn’t really experienced that kind of guidance in that way before. And after that conversation, he was kind of stuck with me.
I started calling him for everything.. seriously, everything. Questions about work, about life, about how to fix my robot vacuum, how to water my plants… anything.
And he never not answered.
Lorne showed me what it looks like to be someone others can rely on consistently, patiently, and without hesitation.
Lorne was also incredibly funny. We shared so many laughs over the years—those moments I’ll always hold close. But what stood out most was his heart. He loved deeply, especially when it came to his family. We talked often about parenting, and it was so clear how proud he was and how much he loved them.
Lorne was a truly kind and remarkable man—a devoted husband, a loving father, and someone who made a lasting impact on everyone around him. I feel so incredibly grateful and blessed to have worked alongside him for five years. He will always hold a special place in my heart.

It’s been a long minute. Actually decades since I last saw you. However the memories remain. One of the babies of the Card Cousins. The last time I saw you we were at Pismo Beach. You were having a great time hanging with my brother and i and playing out in the sand dunes. I see the resemblance of both your mom and Dad in your photos. Obviously a protector of your family similar to your dad. Smiling like your mom. You will be missed tons!
Lorne never hesitated to show up for the people in his life. Whether it was insisting I take a walk during an impossibly busy workday or helping move furniture into my first home, he was always there. He was fiercely loyal and unwavering in his love and support for those he cared about. He was also one of the few people who regularly asked the kinds of questions meant to push me—and so many others—to live intentionally and make choices aligned with what truly matters.
I had the privilege of witnessing the awe and joy Lorne felt when he first became a father, and in the years that followed as their beautiful family grew. His love and pride in his daughters were unmistakable. Being their dad was the role he cherished most.
Lorne was the kind of person who touched countless lives simply by the way he lived. He cared deeply about those who needed someone to stand beside them. In his work and in his life, he treated everyone with humility, respect, and compassion. Anyone who knew Lorne was better for having known him.
I will carry Lorne with me every day. Knowing him changed me, and because of that, I will continue striving to live with the same intention, compassion, and depth of care that he showed so effortlessly. His presence and his impact will continue to live on in all of us who were lucky enough to know and love him.

When we first met, Lorne was my coworker. Many of those early years were filled with endless conversations and debates about our work, behavior versus sensory dysfunction, promoting communication versus promoting independence, the kind of discussions that only people who care deeply about what they do can have. Very quickly, he also became my IT support, and sometimes my emotional support through the inevitable heartaches life brings. And of course, he liked to tease me. The kind of teasing that only someone who has known you for decades can get away with.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw him in person. I imagine it was probably over beers and Mexican food, maybe at a kids’ birthday party, or possibly a wedding. Life moved forward the way it does. After he moved out of LA/The Valley, we would text a couple of times a year. But distance never changes the truth of a real friendship. A friend is still a friend.
Lorne was the kind of friend who would gently pull me back or throw his arm out in front of me to stop me from stepping off the curb too soon while waiting for the light to change. The kind of friend who would get genuinely frustrated with me for dating men who weren’t worth my time because he believed I deserved better. The kind of friend who tried to teach me to stand up for myself, even when I fought him tooth and nail.
He was also the kind of friend who would sneak up behind me just to yell “Boo!” and scare the living daylights out of me. I would throw whatever I was holding into the air and scream, something that happened more often than I care to admit over the years. And if that wasn’t enough, he might sling one of those flying monkey toys across the room just to see me jump.
And if you ever asked Lorne for help with something simple, like changing the toner in the printer or replacing the water jug, there was a good chance he wouldn’t do it for you. Instead, he would show you how to do it yourself. Not because he didn’t want to help, but because he believed you were capable, and he wanted you to know it too.
That was Lorne. Thoughtful, protective, stubborn in the best ways, and quietly invested in the people he cared about. I’m grateful for the friendship we shared, for the laughter, the lessons, and the years that went by far too quickly. Some friendships become part of the fabric of your life, and Lorne will always be part of mine. I will miss him deeply, but I will always be grateful that I got to call him my friend.

When I entered the field of ABA, Lorne took me under his wing. He spent time teaching me to think outside the box so I could make a meaningful impact. He seemed to have knowledge about everything. When I was studying for my BCBA exam, he told me that he was planning to test as well, but he didn’t want to share that with anyone. He had bigger plans for himself and his family.
We both ended up passing, and I remember him texting to congratulate me, knowing how hard I had worked and how nervous I was. What I admired most was that he truly didn’t seem concerned about the outcome for himself. He was confident in his abilities. He carried himself that way in everything he did. And even in that moment, he still wasn’t thinking about himself. That was Lorne.
He always put others before himself, especially his family. He would always say that family is everything, and that was evident in the way he lived his life. Lorne taught me so much about ABA, but he also taught me about life—about what really matters and what is worth pursuing.
Once you started talking with Lorne, you quickly learned how smart, genuine, thoughtful, and knowledgeable he was about so many different subjects. He was someone you could really explore ideas with—whether it was about work or life—and he had a way of helping you think a little deeper about things.
One memory that stands out to me was when I was pregnant with my first child and having a particularly stressful day at work. Lorne noticed, and without hesitation he suggested we step out of the office and go for a walk. During that walk, I really got to see who Lorne was. In that moment he showed up not just as a coworker, but as a friend. And he also showed up as a parent—reminding me about the importance of taking care of myself and my baby, and that there was nothing more important than family.
That conversation stayed with me. Because more than anything, Lorne’s love for being a father, a husband, and a family man was at the center of who he was. It wasn’t just something he talked about—it was something he truly lived.
Lorne will be greatly missed, and he will always be remembered.
Of course, our conversations weren’t always so serious. We also happily geeked out over Star Wars and our shared favorite Avenger, Captain America. Lorne had a way of weaving those worlds into everyday life—casually dropping lines like “he went faster than 12 parsecs” or “get that guy a sandwich” with a knowing smile.
Lorne was someone who led with quiet strength, wisdom, and compassion. He was also there for me during some of my darker days, quietly being solid. I always knew I could rely on him when things were hard or when I needed someone steady in my corner.
I feel incredibly grateful to have shared so many years of friendship and professional collaboration with him. I will miss him deeply, and I will miss our collaborations.
In the spirit of our many Star Wars conversations: No one’s ever really gone. Lorne lives on in the way he touched my life—with his belief in me, his ethics to do right for others, and his constant example of doing what is right. His guidance, humor, and integrity have shaped me forever.

