My Sister's Obituary

Melanie and Mike the day they were married.

I thought about posting the link to my sister's obituary before, but decided I would just cut and paste it here instead when I felt ready. It was changed by someone before it was published. I wasn't happy about those changes, though they were minor and no one would have known but Melanie and her husband.

What were the changes? Spelling. I'm the first to admit that I'm not always perfect at catching my mistakes when writing something, but two of the changes made were not mistakes.

My sister was given a nickname by her husband that she really liked. It made her feel special, which she totally was. He called her Sweetpea. They spelled it as one word and she even made a profile on Facebook with it spelled that way. So I honored that when writing about her, because it belonged to her.

The other change was what bothered me most, though I got over it. They changed the spelling of her dog's name. The reason that most bothered me is because I have a memory of Melanie attached to this. The proper spelling to the common world for her little Chihuahua is "Chico." When she stayed with us for a while about a year ago, I saw his dog tag. Knowing what his name was, I laughed and said, "Mel, did you know that you've got his name spelled wrong? It says 'Chicko' here." She got a bit defensive, and said it didn't matter how it was spelled to other people. She knew his name and it was the way it was supposed to be. I couldn't argue with that. Look at how people change the spellings for names and other things all the time to suit themselves.

To confirm though, I asked her husband before writing her obituary how he wanted me to spell their little one's name. He confirmed what I already suspected. So that's the way I did it. It got changed. Honestly, during those days leading up to the funeral I was probably looking for a fight to let off some of the steam I had brewing in me. Thank heavens I didn't let it loose though. I'd have regretted it, especially since the targets would have been those who did the most to help during this extremely difficult time.

So here it is:

Melanie Sue Anderson Adams, 32, of Logan, passed away unexpectedly in her sleep on July 20, 2013. She was born in Brigham City, Utah on June 7, 1981 to Julie Ann Vasquez (living) and Ron Alvin Anderson (deceased). She was married to Michael Jeffery Adams (living) on August 2, 2008 in Logan.

Melanie, known fondly as “Sweatpea,” enjoyed playing video games, reading, spending time with those she loved and writing poetry, which she hoped to one day see published in a book. She had a big, beautiful and generous heart and would give her last dollar, even if it meant she went without.  She didn't expect anything in return. She loved unconditionally, in every sense of what that word means.

Before her passing Melanie was working on getting her high school diploma and also preparing to go to the temple with her husband to be sealed for time and eternity.

Melanie was preceded in death by her step-father, DeVerl Anderson; her grandmother, Artheta Anderson; grandfather, Vern Anderson and great-grandmother, Nellie Campbell.

She is survived by her sisters, Nellie (Tony) Butler and Kristy Anderson; her brother, Ron Alvin Anderson, Jr; her grandmother Judith Vasquez and several nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and cousins. Also surviving are her two dogs, Chicko and Princess, whom she loved like they were her children.

Anyway, Melanie knows that I honored her wishes and did it the way she would have done, and I told her husband the original way I had it too. That's all that matters. For those who want to see her tribute wall, here's the link: Melanie Sue Adams Obituary

Let's be honest, I'm not Okay

I've been getting that question a lot: Are you okay? How are you feeling? Or some other variation. I understand the mentality behind it. And I myself am guilty of asking questions like that after someone has gone through a tragedy of some kind. I know what people want to hear when they ask it, and I try to give them that answer.

Last night, after helping to go through my sisters things, to help her husband clear out their motel room, I was asked that question. I tried to give the stock answer and it came out on a sob. That's because it was a lie. I'm not okay.

I just lost my baby sister. It wasn't something I saw coming. It wasn't something I was even remotely prepared for. I'd worried for her, sure. I couldn't help that. But I didn't expect to wake up in the morning and find two missed calls from her husband that came at 2 am, and have things spiral from there.

We were going to take the kids to Seven Peaks, to finally use those passes we bought months ago for the first time. We got up early and was I was giving instructions to my kids when I noticed that the phone by my teenager's bed said it had voicemail. I thought that was strange, since I knew I had checked it before going to bed. I was surprised to see the time stamps on the Caller ID. Who would call at that time?

The message was from my sister's husband saying it was important to call him back as soon as possible. Twenty minutes later he'd left another message saying the same thing. That was odd and unlike him. I wondered if my sister was in the hospital. She'd been having terrible pain, especially in her back, and had just been diagnosed with a degenerative condition. I tried to call him back, but got no answer. So I tried her number, no response. I sent her a facebook message. Nothing. I called my mother, also no answer. So I called my Grandma. She said she'd also missed two calls just after 3 am.

It left me feeling unsettled, and I tried again to call her husband, but still got no answer. After talking about it with my husband, we decided to continue with our plans, but to keep trying to reach someone to find out what was going on. So we made breakfast, joked with the kids during meal time, cleaned up and then started to get everyone dressed. Between this time, I continued to try to reach someone to find out why we got those 2 am calls.

We were nearly ready to go, when one of my daughters brought me the phone and said I'd missed a call from my sister's husband. So I finished pulling my hair back and dialed his number. I don't even remember what his first words were. All I remember is that somewhere in there were the words, "Mel passed away last night."

I doubled over. No way!!!! I'd heard wrong. What?! No! No! No! No! And since that moment, I have not been okay. I keep seeing flashes of her. Remembering the good times. Agonizing over the bad ones. Thinking of how wrong this is--how unfair.

And then I still have to function. I have a husband and six children. My children need me. There are things that they need done for them. Band stuff for my son. Soccer stuff for one of my daughters. Appointments. Paperwork. Registration stuff....But I'm barely able to form a thought that doesn't have to do with my sister and what I have to do to prepare for her funeral--how to get through this day, the next day, this week....

Much needs to be done. Of my family, I'm the one most capable of doing this. Melanie's husband has the full support of his family and they're very willing to do everything--but this was MY sister. I can't let them take all the responsibility. She was MY sister--my only sister. I have to be there for her. I have to.

On top of this, I worry. What will this do to my grandma, who is already in very poor health? But most of all, what will this do to my mom? To lose her child--her baby. As it is, my mother's life is difficult, to say the least. But this...This is beyond difficult. There are no words strong enough to describe it. Right now though, she's handling it. She's surrounding herself with my sister's things, and trying to be strong for me, as I am for her.

So, to sum it up: No, I'm not okay right now. But I have my family with me, some very good friends and I have my Heavenly Father, and with them I will get through this and one day I will be okay again. I'm not sure how long it will take, or what steps will get me there, but second by second, I'll get there.

For My Little Sis

Melanie Sue Anderson Adams
June 7, 1981-July 20, 2013

I can't sleep. I just keep thinking about my sister. Writing has always helped me in the past, but nothing is making this hole in my heart go away. I keep thinking of how misjudged and misunderstood she was. I keep thinking about how unfair life was to her. She deserved so much more. If only she realized that...

What you saw when you looked at Melanie was a woman with several tattoos, piercings and extremely curly and sometimes frizzy, out of control hair. She was unconventional, liked to dress to please herself, whether that be a comfortable pair of sweats, a costume for a Harry Potter party or some crazy goth get-up. She even had a favorite cape she would put on for special occasions. She didn't care what people thought.

What you didn't see when you looked at her, unless you took the time to get to know her: She would give her last dollar, even if it meant she went without. She'd give you the clothes off her back. She didn't expect anything in return. She loved unconditionally, in every sense of what that word means. She was there for whoever needed her, and did whatever was necessary to get to the place she felt most needed. She had a big, beautiful, generous heart. The only person she could have showed more love to was herself.

She loved her animals like they were her children, even more so when she learned she would never have any kids of her own. She sobbed when she lost one of her beloved pets and even asked to bury her oldest companion in my backyard because while her housing status was often up in the air, she knew we were planning to stay put and she wanted her Cocoa Baby to be where she could visit.

She loved my children like they were her children, and just a few days ago she was the only one who thought to call my 3 year old to personally wish her a Happy Birthday. I had to be extra careful about telling her anything my kids liked or were interested in, because she would take money she didn't have to spare and spend it on something she knew they would enjoy. She did the same for me. I would scold her for it, but it never did any good because she'd just do it again anyway. It was her way of telling us she loved us.

She forgave, even when someone did what most would consider unforgivable, and she didn't hold a grudge either. I've never known anyone who did that as freely as her. Never. And I'm sure I never will again.

I don't know how I'm going to do without her. Thirty-two years was not enough. Not nearly enough. But I'm so glad I got to have her as my sister.

I love you so very much, my Melanie Sue-sue.