Perhaps her biggest losses were her peace of mind and sense of community.
Her West Philadelphia neighborhood - now nearly vacant and eerily quiet - never recovered from the city's horrific botched attempt to arrest the MOVE members on May 13, 1985. The violent confrontation marked the first time authorities in the United States had dropped a bomb on American citizens.
Today, after spending more than $43 million on redevelopment, the city has two blocks of boarded-up eyesores to show for its efforts. The homes built to replace those lost in the bomb-ignited inferno were so shoddy that officials stopped making repairs and offered buyouts.
"There's nothing nice about this block anymore," said Bostic, 89. "All the people are gone."
And now that a long-running lawsuit over the replacement houses has ended, Councilwoman Jannie Blackwell says the city needs to put the past to rest on Osage Avenue and Pine Street.
"It's time to make peace with it all and fix up the properties," Blackwell said.
It won't be easy; Philadelphia has many blighted areas competing for attention. And developers of these blocks will have the added challenge of winning support from embittered residents whose American Dream of homeownership has been a nightmare.
"We've been victimized twice," Osage resident Milton Williams said.
Some might say Williams and his neighbors have been victimized three times - the first being when MOVE arrived around 1981.
The revolutionary back-to-nature group came to the city's Cobbs Creek section after a 1978 shootout with police at its previous home. One officer died in the firefight; nine MOVE members went to prison, and others moved to Osage Avenue.
They soon turned their middle-class row house into a fortified compound, with a bunker on the roof and wooden slats over the windows. Reeking garbage attracted vermin, and loudspeakers blared obscene daily rants against authorities for jailing their peers.
"You really couldn't get any rest," said Connie Renfrow, who still lives on Osage. "The kids couldn't do their studies."
Her husband, Gerald Renfrow, said neighbors at first tried to address the problems directly with MOVE members, all of whom used the surname Africa. When talking failed, residents called authorities - but to no avail.
"They just let it fester," he said.
Police decided to move on MOVE in mid-May 1985, obtaining arrest and search warrants on the belief the group's house contained illegal weapons and explosives. Authorities evacuated the block on May 12, telling residents there would be a police action the next day.
When they were refused entry to serve the warrants on May 13, police began an hours-long siege using water cannons, tear gas and bullets. A state police helicopter flew overhead carrying Philadelphia officers and a canvas satchel loaded with explosives.
The bomb ignited a gasoline-fueled conflagration that killed the MOVE militants and children and obliterated two blocks of homes. Ramona Africa, then 29, and Birdie Africa, then 13, escaped with major burns.
Residents, who had been told to take just a change of clothes with them, came home to find ruins.
"Nothing but brick and rubble," recalled Gerald Renfrow, 64.
After more than a year in temporary housing, residents returned to their rebuilt homes in the fall of 1986. That winter, the roofs started leaking.
Next came discoveries of defective plumbing and wiring, bad flooring, nails popping out of walls, burst pipes, flooded basements and backyards and broken appliances. Replacement trees have since uprooted parts of the sidewalk and are strangling pipes.
Milton Williams, 61, has had five stoves, four roofs and two living room ceilings. Today, his front and back windows look out on boarded-up homes.
"It's embarrassing to invite people over here," he said.
After 14 years of unending repairs, then-Mayor John Street decided in 2000 that the houses were beyond salvage. He offered owners $125,000 each plus $25,000 in moving expenses; 37 people took him up on it. The homes were then worth about $75,000 each.
But 24 residents sued for breach of contract for stopping the repairs, which had been promised by Street's predecessor. A federal jury awarded each homeowner $534,000, but a judge slashed it to $250,000. An appeal brought the settlement to $190,000 per house in 2008.
Sixteen homeowners, including Williams and Bostic, accepted the deal. Bostic, though, said it is not enough money to move off Osage and, in any case, she is too old to start over. She turns 90 in September.
"I think if I have to move it will kill me," Bostic said. "Why couldn't they fix the houses like they should have?"