When Unspeakable Things Happen

Alix Norman before her murder. You can help her mother here.

I grew up in a small town called Brigham City where I experienced both the good and bad parts of small town life. One good thing I remember had to do with a girl named Chrishell, whom I knew in high school. I saw her as bubbly, happy, easy-going, friendly and non-judgmental--that part was a big one for me, because I'd experience a lot of negative judgement growing up the way I did.

Chrishell always had a huge smile on her face and she was beautiful. She often invited me to go to church, but I never took her up on it, because that was during a time when I had turned my back on God. She never judged me for refusing her. She would just smile her beautiful smile and ask me to go another time. I genuinely liked her, but we never saw each other again after we graduated, and she became a distant memory.

That is how it remained until the unspeakable happened and I found out through Facebook that the tragedy I'd read about on the news had happened to Chrishell. I couldn't fathom it. How could something like this happen? When I'd first read about the apparent murder-suicide of a stepfather to his 16 year old stepdaughter, it both saddened and sickened me. But finding out that it happened to someone I used to know and liked and respected, took it to a whole new level.

I've kept up on the story since then, hoping to find out something that could make sense out of something so senseless. But really, it will never make sense, and my heart goes out to her and those others of her friends and family who were floored by this awful event.

When I got up this morning and got my kids off to school, I saw a picture in my newsfeed on Facebook which got my attention. It was a picture of Chrishell's daughter, Alix, with a link asking people to help her. I can't do much, but I figured I should do whatever I could. And one way I can help is to spread the word.

Some friends of Chrishell have set up a website to accept donations to help her through the financial part of this tragedy. If you can't afford to donate anything, please help to spread the word. Let Chrishell know that people care about her, and that her Heavenly Father loves her, by doing His work.

She once extended her hand out to me. Now I want to help her.

Working to Move on

My main purpose of starting this blog was to help people, and yes, to journal my family's journey as we go along. I still want to do this, and I hope that sharing what's been going on in my life now has been okay. This was a shock to me (understatement!) and writing is how I vent.

Anyway, I will always love my little sister and I'll miss her until the day we meet again. I don't want to drag anyone down with that. I just wanted to share her with you. She was an amazing person.

On a different note, we've had some other things going on during all of this. We've taken advantage of our Pass of all Passes a week ago for the first time this summer and I have some concerns about how it's going. It's our third year with the pass and I'm not sure I like it as much as we used to.

I'm thinking they've oversold them. To say the venues are crowded doesn't begin to paint an accurate picture. We're going to try going on a weeknight and see if that's any better. Also, a heads up on the Sandy Seven Peaks Fun Center location: it's for bowling only, and they really should change the name to reflect that. Not only that, but they charge $3.50 shoe rental, so it's not quite free with your pass (which is only valid Mon-Thurs).

There's some other things I wanted to share, but am gathering more info before I do. So hopefully I won't fall off the horse again and will be better about updating here. The kids go back to school in less than two weeks and I can't decide if that's going to give me more or less time! :)

My Tribute at Melanie's Funeral

I've been asked several times if I spoke at my sister's funeral. I did. It was the best way I could think to honor her, to share her with those who didn't know her like I did. Some of what I said I'd written here, after I first found out we'd lost her. But over the week before her funeral, I thought of more I wanted to say. Here it is for those who wanted to know what I said:

Writing this talk was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. I wanted to get it just right because I want to do Melanie justice. It’s hard to describe her to those who don’t know her. She was a very diverse and complicated person. She was the type of person who made you realize that you should never judge a book by its cover, because she never fit in to any of the stereotypes.

I keep seeing her as a child. We were always together. She was my little tag-a-long. Sometimes it drove me crazy, but many times in the turmoil of our young lives, having Melanie with me was such a comfort. Things were certainly never boring with her there, she was so excited and curious about life. She was always a spit-fire too, with beautiful curls that got her complimented as a “little Shirley Temple” more than once.

I couldn’t help but be protective of her. We never knew what she was going to do next, she kept everyone on their toes and she loved to shock and surprise us—including the time she asked me to close my eyes, put out my hand for a surprise, and when I opened my eyes---behold! It was a spider! Yeah, those were good times!

We sometimes fought like siblings do. Some of those fights resembled a Junior WWF match. But Heaven forbid anyone else hurt one or the other of us. I remember a time when she was being bullied at school in the first grade. I yelled at the kids who were being mean to her and threatened them of what would happen if they touched her (since I felt invincible at a whole two years older than her). I recall saying something along the lines of, “No one can hit her but me!” To which Melanie yelled out, “yeah!” Then realizing what she’d just agreed to, she turned to me, shaking her head a little, “what?”

She had my back too. And in those times in our lives where we were both scared or hurt, we knew we could count on each other to be there. Life took us different directions, as we reacted differently to the trials of our lives. But our love for each other never changed, even as we changed in our adulthood.

When our father died, she never really got over that. She was always Daddy’s girl and I can still see her as a little girl, playing that song by Red Sovine over and over again. She would sing along to the chorus, “Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s girl, I’m the center of Daddy’s world….” She tried to find and hold on to the things that reminded her of him. She was ecstatic when she got into contact with his two older children, Kristy and Ron. Family really was important to her.

What you saw when you looked at Melanie was a woman with several tattoos, piercings (when she had them in) and extremely curly—sometimes frizzy hair (compliments of our beautiful mother). Sometimes it was even streaked with her favorite color, purple—it all depended on her mood at the time. She was unconventional and liked to dress to please herself, whether that be a comfortable pair of sweats, Betty Boop pajamas while shopping at Walmart, 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 just 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 was extremely generous. She'd give you the clothes off her back—literally. And the amazing thing about her generosity is that she didn't expect anything in return. She loved unconditionally, and I’m not saying that just because it sounds good. It didn’t matter what you did, once she loved you, it was forever. 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.

She was there for whoever needed her, and did whatever was necessary to get to the place she felt most needed. She stayed with me in the hospital after my first daughter was born, because I was afraid to be alone and my husband needed to be home with our son. And if you’ve slept in a hospital sofa-bed, you know that night she spent there with me was not a comfortable one. But she never complained to me about it. She seemed happy to be there and was the perfect loving aunt.

Melanie 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 would let herself be homeless rather than go to a place that she couldn’t take her pets with her. Chicko and Princess had a wonderful mother in Melanie.

She loved my children like they were her children, and just a few days before she died, she was the only one who thought to call my 3 year old to personally wish her a Happy Birthday. And my kids love her too. Aunt Melanie is the “cool one,” or the “fun one.” She’d come over just to introduce them to a new game.

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 thing 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. Truly, thinking back on her life over the years, I’d say the only person she could have shown more love to was herself.

While I like to think I know a lot about my sister, there were things about her I didn’t know until recently. I didn’t know she kept meticulous notes on just about anything-whether that be a household to-do list, a grocery list, things she wanted to remember to tell someone or, even, as I found out when going through her things this past week, a list of scriptures to look up, learn more about, or determine the meaning of. I didn’t know she kept a journal, or that she kept a book of sayings to read everyday with her husband. I didn’t know she’d talked about what she wanted done with certain things when she died. I didn’t think to ask her those things because I thought we still had time.

I guess I’ll have to wait until after this life to learn more. 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. She’s no longer in pain and that’s a good thing. She’s with our Heavenly Father and with Daddy. I have no doubt he was there to greet her when she to passed to the other side. So rest in peace, Baby Sister. We’ll be a forever family and I’ll see you again someday.