Dear Melynda,

 Dear Melynda,

Right now, I am at a place.  A place you never got to visit.  I get to learn things you never knew.  I get to talk with people who teach me what is happening in and to my body.  They make me feel seen.  They make me feel not quite so scared when the panic takes over, and it feels as if the end is near.  I get to know what you never did.  The weight of the unfairness weighs heavily in my head and heart.  Time seems to slow down and speed up all at the same breath.  As thoughts of you cross my mind, it feels like yesterday that I hugged you close as I said goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time. At the same time, long agonizing years fall before my feet as I long for the days when I heard your voice at the end of the phone line. Aches flow and slow, up and down, again and again.

Missing you comes in daily pinches that seem sporadic or in sudden crashing moments that take my breath away.  Your laugh rings daily in mine own, so every time I laugh, a pinch crosses my heart to remind me of our shared trait. Of all the times we would roll with laughter together. It was melodic and powerful, and I miss it.  

Missing you comes when I reach for the phone, only to remember you won’t answer.  All that waits for me is a voicemail message that haunts my mind: no advice to give, no stories to tell, just silence.

I miss sneaking food into movies.  The full meals you could fit into your purse.  Your own form of rebellion is hiding in there.  I miss the crafts you would coerce me into, even though I loathed them.  I did love the creativity you lit within me.

I miss raising my kids with you. I long for the days when we would sit around and watch them grow before our eyes.  Loving each of them, regardless of who they actually belonged to.

I miss planning vacations and birthday parties with you.  It seems you took the heart of our family when you left.  We haven’t recovered, and we aren’t the same.  Sometimes the pain of being together without you is too much, so we all stay away.

I miss the everyday stuff we would talk about, laugh about, and fight about because that is what you do with your person.  You do realness.  You do the highs and lows, you do it all because you know they will be there for you on the other side. 

I miss when you would come stay after I had my babies.  You would feed me good food, hold my new baby, love my kids, and encourage my husband.  It was the closest I have come to being mothered, and it was better because it was you.

I missed my kids getting to know you.  They have heard stories, but they can’t comprehend the unique and incredible person you are.

I miss being your sister.  I felt privileged to be so and miss it.  

There are some things that, as I have processed, I realize have become hard for me to look back on. As I grew from the young girl you would care for into a grown woman with a family of her own, it seemed hard for you to let me go.  When I became a new mother, it was hard for you to let me trust my own judgment and make decisions for my kids.  Your opinions and my view of parenting often conflicted, often making me question myself.

At times, it seemed like you and Chris were in a battle over who would control me more.  The constant disappointment I felt, inwardly, at never meeting either of your expectations was a red herring I ignored.  I hate that I allowed.

In my world of regret, a stream of anger swirls.  I am so angry that you didn’t leave him.  I am so angry that your love for him became more than your will to survive, and I don’t know how to reconcile that.

I am so angry that you let Mom back in. That again and again, until the last time it broke you. She did exactly what we knew she would, leaving you feeling more desperate and aching for love.

One of the hardest things for me to reconcile with is how hard you were on Cameron the summer before you died.  You were relentless and mean.  There was never any time to repair.  He was so young. I don’t know if he ever recovered from having that wound left open.  

As the regret grows in my heart, so does my wish list.  I wish that you had left.  I wish that 7,000 fucking dollars wasn’t one of the things that tipped your life into despair that day.  It would have been $7,000 to get you out of that lease.  To get you out of that house where their affair took place. To get you out of that bedroom.  Away from that shower you stared at day in and day out, but it was.  Instead, you sat there in your own triggers and panic.  You slept in it, you mad dinner in it, and you showered it,  you held your babies in it.  How could we have expected anything else.  You lived day in and out in your worst nightmare.  

I wish you hadn’t given into others desires for you.  I wish you would have shepherded your own life forward after you found out about the affair, but instead during this devastating time you had so many telling you what to do or who to be.  Telling you it was awful or not bad at all, “so many woman had been through it”. You didn’t trust or believe in your own instincts.  You did think that you could survive what they were telling you to do.

If anger and wishes were all that kept me up with dread close by,  I might be able to endure it, but it is the regret that gets into my soul. 

The regret that I didn’t believe you. That I didn’t listen.  That when you told me you wanted to die nothing could have kept me from you.  Telling you you weren’t alone and that I would be there for you.  Instead I was weak and condescending.  It is an aching that won’t let me forget.

I regret that I didn’t know more. That I didn’t have the knowledge or resources to recognize what the hell was happening to you.  I didn’t know what C-PTSD was.  I didn’t know what was really causing the panic attacks.  Honestly I didn’t truly know what it was like until I had my first panic attack.  It was then that I understood more about why you did what you did.  I was in agony. Looking back I see you were living that for months with no end in sight.     

I regret that I didn’t scream from the roof tops that you deserved better.  That I didn’t clear all the doubt from your mind that you are worth loving, showing up for, and feeling safe with those around you.  That anyone who doesn’t show you respect, kindness, and loyalty don’t deserve to be apart of your life, but I didn’t.  I was meek. I was mild.  I was passive. You deserved someone in your corner to fight for or with you.

I regret that your pain was too much for me to bare.  That I couldn’t stay in it very well when you needed me most because I was so lonely,  Carter was so sick, Chris was gone so much, and Josalyn was a baby.  That I was too afraid to ask my husband for the money and time to come see you.  

More than that I regret that I didn’t stand up to the fear and panic that set into my stomach from the moment I first hear you wails over the phone that September night.  The noises that came over the phone, after you found out about Dave’s affair still reverberate my mind.  They mix with cries I would hear whenever mom would be holding you captive and beating you.  It was more than sadness for you, it started a panic in me with reverberations from the past that I didn’t understand, nor did I know what to do with.  In response I distanced myself from your pain.  I didn’t know how to help.  I was watching it consume you and I felt it consuming me.  It is my biggest regret of all.

I regret that I didn’t book my ticket immediately when I found out you were in hospital.  They said you would be ok, but I knew from the first phone call you wouldn’t.  But as I waited  at the airport. Excited to get to you, even though you wouldn’t know I was there, the devastating call came that you had passed. It crushed me.

I regret not holding your hand, brushing your hair, and reminding you of how loved your were while you were still here.  Those are moments I can’t get back.  

I regret that I didn’t get to kiss your cheek, see your smile, or look into your clear blue eyes one last time. Can you forgive me?  I am not sure I can.

I regret that I haven’t been there for your girls. That this big pile of “trauma” rotting in my soul is ignited when I am around them.  For all these years since your death I have just been surviving while not understanding what was happening to me.  

Beneath all the regret are the words I don’t speak.  I don’t speak of the shame for fear of what giving it voice will mean.  I feel shame that I am still alive and you aren’t. What stroke of fate would create such a life? It isn’t fair that I have stayed when you couldn’t. 

I feel shame that I am getting help with childhood trauma when you couldn’t.  All the whys ring in my head.  Why didn’t we know?  Why couldn’t someone see what was happening to you?  Where was the help? Why do my kids get a mom and yours don’t?  Why do I get to age and you don’t?

This place though it isn’t a place just for safety.  It is also a place where truths have to be faced.  The truth is, I’ve never let you go,  I thought I did but not really.  You live in me, around me, and sometimes the pain smothers me so I can’t breathe.  The problem with that is is that I am here and you are there.  That I need to breathe because if I don’t take a deep breath soon I am going to die too.  

So, I’m letting go.  I’m letting go of the shame that I have kept close to my heart, so I could  punish myself for you being gone.  I wasn’t there the way I hoped I would have been.  I didn’t come back for you.  I didn’t act in a way I respect or a way I want to be remembered by someone I love and I going to forgive myself for it and let it go.

I am letting go of the things I left unsaid.  That I didn’t stand firm, proclaim you worth and remind you of your wonderful presence when you were in doubt.  This has weighed heavily on me but I am learning to be stronger.  To never let those I love around of their excellence.  Of their worth and right to take up space.  For their right to be treasured and of how important they are to me and to this world.  It isn’t just words, this truth lives in my soul—the worth of others. It has been a painful lesson I have learned from losing you.  

I am letting go of the idea that I could have saved you because there were many other people who let you down in much more important ways that altered your life.  

I am letting go of the shame I feel about your girls because all I could do was barely care for my children.  The disgust  I feel in my soul for my human frailty has haunted me for years but I am letting it go.  The cost of being human is high sometimes.     

I am letting go of the anger I feel you have for me.  I know you and I know there is a good chances you are angry but I don’t know for sure.  Maybe someday we can hash it out.  

I am letting go of the shame and sadness I feel that I am getting help and you never did. You needed to be considered.  You needed to be listened to.  You needed help. The expectation was to muscle through and get over it.  I’m sorry.  You deserved better.  

Hardest of all I am letting go of the shame of my kids having a mom while yours don’t.  That I get to hold and kiss my children daily.  While each year passes and your motherless girls have un-wiped tears, and arms that ache to be held by you. 

From that desperate call on September night with you wailing. To the evening where I received the dreaded phone call saying you were being rushed to the hospital.  It all finally led to the silent, heavy night, the last call that came, where you were gone.  Over those calls, over those three months, I spun my self into a web of dysfunction.  The truth is that all along I believed it was all my fault.  That I could put a stop to it.  That I controlled life, death, and the powers that be. So much so that when my desires, my prayers, my efforts, and my pleas ultimately failed, that I had failed.  That I failed you.  I killed you.  I. Killed. You.  

I don’t now if it is huburous or my own desperation to control an impossible situation but I hated myself that day.  I hated that you gave up but I hated myself more because I couldn’t make you stay.  

I have learned that one soul, my own, is hard enough to carry through this life. Trying to carry the weight of yours as well has crushed me.  

It wasn’t my fault and I did love you the best I could.  I was loyal and good to you.  I have been there for your girls to the best of my ability, despite my limitations. I couldn’t have saved you because no one can save anyone truly.  We can walk with them, hold them, meet their needs but they must have the will to live, as much as it pains me to say.  I couldn’t have saved you and it was never my part to. 

These photos here are hard to look at. It is hard to look at the younger you, the younger versions of all of us.  Behind those smiles there was so much pain, but the pictures paint this beautiful picture.  Sometimes I stare at them and think “what the hell happened”.  My mind becomes cluttered trying to align the nightmare behind closed doors with the smile on our faces.  I ache for the young girl who I know had to hide so much pain, who would grow into the incredible woman I knew despite your experience.  Who would eventually meet such a tragic end despite her best efforts.   

As I lay down the weight of your life I want you to know I love.  You will always be with me as I will always be with you.  I know I will see you again and I look forward with anticipation.  The laughter that will fill the room when I see you again will make the stars shine.  Until then, I love you!

See you soon.

Love,

Laurin

Life Is Good

Tomorrow my sister's baby girl, Abbi, is becoming a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  In my church this is land mark time in every young person's life.  It is the time when they have come to the "age of accountability".  An age where their Father in Heaven believes they are ready to take responsibility for the choices they have made. 
This is a crossroad in Abbi's life.  A day she will remember.  It is a day many women labor towards.  To prepare their children to understand the responsibilty they are taking on and the covenants they are making.
Tonight as I was trying to sleep I was laying in bed quietly asking inside, "Melynda where are you?  We need you right now.  She needs you right now."  This is a rite of passage you deserve to be at. 
I imagained what would happen if she were there, physically.  She would have that trademark smile on her face and Abbi's would match it.  She would dress her up from head to toe so Abbi know this was a special day.  It is in those moment that she would realize she had reached a "Life is Good" moment even though it seemed like time flew in fast forward to get it there.  A moment where she would know at least to that point in time she had taught her all she could.  Her heart would be thankful for the the chance she had to raise her and for a loving Father to intrust her with this beautiful girl.  She would look forward to what is next in life for Abbi, YW, boyfriends, school, marriage; and what she can to do prepare her.  This would be a moment in life when "Life is Good"!
I remember one of the last few words I ever saw my sister write was "Life is Good" even though in reality it was tough she was still blessed with those.
So, I laid in bed contemplating, thinking how wrong it all is, mostly wondering how a heart gets through a day like to tomorrow is going to be, so wonderful and, yet, with a feeling of absence.  Then while I lay there a little blonde two year old rolled over toward me.  I could feel her breath on my face, in the dim light I could see her hair gently flung over her cheeks and I reveled in the sweetness of that moment.  Life is good.
Suddenly like pictures being take many memories came to my mind.  My sister holding her Macie when she was a week old and how she glowed with pride and love.  Seeing my sister when she was a newlywed and how in love she was.  Watching my sister try to coax her three year old into time out and my Maya defying her in every way she could.  Then I remembered many of those same things in my own life.  Teaching Kate to read and feeling that sense of accomplishment.  Holding Carter all night long to make sure he kept on breathing when he was sick.  Giving birth Josalyn at home alone.  I felt such a surge of gratitude for my "Life is Good" moments.  They have now become my "what really matters" moments. 
I have felt weighed down by the heaviness of life.  By the difficulty of the world around us especially from what I feel I can't control.  As I laid their mourning the loss for my sister of this exceptional loss of "moments" she will have and of what she was going to miss tomorrow I found comfort in these memories.  I had such a feeling of love that our Father in Heaven has for us and realised that he has given us so many before and I don't believe he is going to stop now simply because their is a thin veil dividing us.  I know I won't see her but I know she will be there.  I know that she will be there to witness her life's work, that was and is her child, take her next step in this life.  I know she will smile.  I can see it in my mind's eye.  I know that she will rejoice and understand better than any of us how wonderful this day really is.  She will still have her "moment" with her daughter.  I hope and pray the we can all feel the love that is coming from her and most assuradly is coming from our Father in Heaven.

Day 31

Dear Melynda,

I received an e-mail that a acquaintance/friend husband passed away today.  While I knew her while working in young women's together I didn't know her husband at all.  I feel for her.  I remember that heavy burden.  I remember that deep sorrow that rest on you.  I have been think about this phrase quite a bit lately.  It is spoken by the Prophet Abinidi in The Book of Mormon:

 

“But there is a resurrection,

therefore the grave hath no victory,

 and the sting of death,

is swallowed up in Christ.

 

 

I have felt the peace that comes with death.  I have felt lifted out of despair and I have rejoiced in the assurance that my testimony has brought me.  I have never doubted once where you are.  In fact the other day a missionary from another church came by to talk with me about religion.  She asked me point blank, "Do you know where you will go when you die?''  I said enthusiastically, "Yes!"  She rocked back a little on her heels.  I don't think she gets that answer often.  I then went on to tell her how.  How I know because of you.  Because I lost you and through that time I now don't just believe I know!  It made me realize how great this gospel is.  How blessed I have been to have it and receive my own testimony of it. 

 

As I think of this dear sister tonight I think of her pain.  Of the sadness and the deep bleakness that will come but I can also witness now that Christ has taken the sting of death away.  I thought for awhile that I wasn't doing things right because I was sad but now I realize we must be sad.  We must miss our loved ones.  Not only is it natural to miss those you love but it is our physical reaction to being completely separated from our loved ones...at least physically.  We must mourn in its due course but I now see it is the real sting that is gone.  The sting of never seeing that person again.  That would be an agony I couldn't comprehend.  To think we would live only to lose someone completely would be an endless sorrow. 

 

I don't know the words to tell you how I feel.  I am thankful for you as my sister.  I am thankful for all I learned in your life and in your passing.  I am so thankful and often day dream about seeing you again.  I know that this time apart will make that day more meaningful.  I have learned so much during these last few months and know that there is still more.  

 

I think back to last summer.  That amazing camping trip.  :)  The last time we were all together.  All the work you put into it.  For one last hurrah!  How we laughed,  we argued, we laughed some more, we froze our buns off but we had a great time.  I will always remember that time and remember that it is times like those that we are working for in this life.  Chris and I coined the phrase  as not "living for the moment" but "living for eternity".  This life will pass as we clearly see but it is far beyond that that we are seeking. 

From the moment you passed away each memory became treasured.  The good and bad.  The ones of laughing at the ice cream shop, to all those boy crazy talks you gave me, to having our first adult argument in Grandma's kitchen (she was appalled) and how we both left livid and both returned 10 minutes later with tears in our eyes to apologize.  To you meeting Chris for the first time and welcoming him whole heartedly, to dragging me everywhere with you when you were in High School,  to being there holding my hand when Kate was born these memories are all frozen.  Stuck on a bookshelf inside my mind.  I occasionally pull them off.  Many times something I see will force one of them open without me thinking of it.  They are there to treasure and remember until we make more. 

So thank you for everything.  Thanks being the sister I needed through so many things.  For being there always.  For listen, for caring, and for being you.  I wouldn't have had it any other way.  I miss you.  I love you!

Love,  Laurin


THE END

(for now)

Day 30

Dear Melynda,

Melynda moments. That is what I have come to call them. They are the moments in my life that are pionent with you. Where your influence is complete and I know that in this moment I will always think of you. These things will always be yours.
Last night I was laying in bed with my Josalyn. She could not sleep but was so tired so she was not very happy about it. I curled up next to her in that tiny toddler bed and we laid there face to face, nose to nose. I would smiled a little she would give a little smile back until we were both in full face grins. Then I laid there and sang to her and absent mindely began to run my fingers over her face. Around and around as soft as I could. In that moment laying there with my baby it took me back to a few months before laying with yours. Cuddling her at night, because those are the hardest times, and talking to her about you. She told me how you would lay in bed and night and tickle her face so as we talked I would do the same. It brought comfort and closeness for her. Somethine she was longing for. Those were sweet times and they are what I remember most about your girls being here with me.

It brought a mixture of sadness and joy to me to realize that even with you gone your influence is strong in my life. Eveytime I do that I know thoughts of you will be there. Thoughts of the mother you were and the mother you are. Thoughts of remembering to slow down and enjoy these moments. I want my children to someday remember me like your do you. They have hundreds of precious little nuggets of golden memories you have given them because you took so much time to just be with them.

Then last night on the phone Jayanne told me our Miller Family get together that was that night. She had her own Melynda moment. Her time-stand-still moment where she could see and almost feel you there. She knew if you were there exactly what you would be doing. You would be in the middle of the room bringing everyone together. Reaching out to those who didn't feel as included and most of all your laugh would be heard from almost any room in the house. She may have been the only one there that could hear that empty sound but it something that won't ever go away.

A month ago Chad posted a video of all the family doing a huge slip n' slid on The Fourth of July. Remember how awesome that was last year....I think we have a tradition in the making. Well nobody else was going so Chad went for it. As I watched him go down the hill and slid off at the bottom I unconiously kept thinking here comes her laugh, here it comes. Then it ended and that was it. It was such a hallow feeling to hear nothing. I will always remember that empty air in those moments where you should be/would be there.

Thank you for being the type of person that has moments that are worth keeping around. There are times that they hurt but there is so much good in remembering you and who you are that it makes it worth it. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 29

Dear Melynda,

Happy Birthday to Jo!  That is right our little Josalyn Holly turned two.  Yes!  She is still your "destroying angel" as you call her.  Actually she is worse.  I rememember how she tormented you last summer.  You would put all the bowls in your island away....and you being on krutches and bending over to pick up a half dozen bowls while on them wasn't easy.... then only to have her come in not a minute later and throw them all on the ground.  She is even more skilled at the her job of destroying.  You should see what she can do with a marker.  Oh and remember how you don't allow Play Dough in your house..well we bought her some for her birthday...now I know why you don't.  Oh! well.  Live and learn huh?!

It was a wonderful day.  We went swimming, and ate lots of fun food, and of course cake.  The day before as I was making her cake I  was adding the piping around the edges and it took me back to almost two years ago when you came to visit.  You and Dad were here for her blessing.  We had stayed up late putting the finishing touches on her blessing dress and head band.  Now we were sitting in the kitchen decorating her blessing cake together.  I was fine with just some simple chocolate frosting but no you whipped me up some of your special cream cheese frosting that is to die for (and that Jayanne could eat a container of).  Then you made some white frosting so we could decorate it.  I of course looked like a clumsy, fool doing it while you finished it off for me with the greatest of ease.  I remember all the fun time spent there make this marvelouse cake for dinner.  Then as we sat in the living room we notice how quiet it was with Carter not running around.  Where did we find him?  Well of course we found him on the kitchen stool, bent of the counter, quietly eating our cake.  The best part is we all laughed and ate it anyway.  Even though his little fingers had picked through it.

I am sure it will pass but right now I measure time with "two years ago if I had known....".  That is what I kept thinking over and over again.  I kept replaying in my head the conversation I had the day she was born.  You were at Grandma's house.  I was calling with not only the good knews that we had had a baby girl who was healthy and strong but the unexpected knews that I ended up delivering her myself on our linving room floor, alone.   I remember talking to you about it and giving you the details but what I remember is how quiet you were not like your usually excited self when you have a new niece born.  You then told me about how you were going in for surgery in a couple of hours.  A very painful surgery that you would have to be awake for because they thought you were allergic to the anesthsia.  I felt so horrible to be going through such a wonderful life changing experience when I felt like you were on the complete other end of the spectrum.  To be honest I thougth you hated me for that reason too. I said good bye and hung up not really understanding at the time how difficult the next few hours were going to be for you.

I called you the next day.  You sounded aweful.  You spent a great majority of the time throwing up.  You started telling me about your surgery.  I was still operating under the gulit of having something so wonderful happen when you were in so much pain.  You started to tell me how you laid on your side while a nurse held you down.  While she held you down the doctor was shocking the nerves in your spinal cord to see if those were the ones he should clip.  Before the proceedure you told them about me delivering my baby that morning by myself.  You started to tell me how bad it hurt and how you could feel shocks in your whole abdomen.  You said, "I looked the nurse in the eyes and said, "If my sister can deliver a baby by herself I can do this!""  I thought that was so hilarious because it is not even the same thing and I told you that.  I would have gladly deliver a baby on my living room floor everyday for the rest of my life than go spinal surger while being awake.  That is why we have our own unique trials...right?! 

 Summer is killing me.  I am coming up on the one year mark for the last time I saw you..alive.  Summer I kind of think is our time.  It is when I would visit you in St. George, it is when I visit now.  Now I am just home.  With my cute family mind you but it is just different.  I need a swimming party at the Thomas', some shopping at the outlettes, sneaking into movie theaters with our purses full of food and most importantly jamming to some girl music belting it at the top of our lungs while we drive.  That is summer with you and I just can't do it alone...okay I still sneak food into the movie theater!

I miss you so much!  I love you!

Love, Lar

The cake

The destruction

You and her on her blessing day

The last pic I have of you two.  You have her her first marshmallow.  She loved you after that.

Here is our two year old!

P.S.  These are for you....

Day 28

Dear Melynda,

4 Days.  That is all I have left and yet for some reason I can't seem to bring in to a close.  I still wake up everyday and think of what I want to tell you.  I think of stories to share, things that remind me of you, and all the things that make me sad about you being gone.  None of those thoughts ever turn into words.  I haven't been ready to wake up and not think about all those things.  It is how I keep you around and close.  So much for a month long project...huh!?

I just dropped off three of the most beautiful girls yesterday and it broke my heart.  I love them so much.  I loved being with them and wrapping my arms around them every night.  Yes, it was terribly gut wrenching to have me hold them and not you, but I do feel grateful for the opportunity.  I felt grateful for every hug and every tear they trusted me enough to share.

While your girls were here one night to we went to a carnival.  I was there rushing around with six kids trying to make sure none of them were lost or wandered off.  Right as the sun was setting we were heading to the car.  The parking lot was almost empty and us seven were pretty much alone.  The kids all ran off together and then I was alone.  I did the strangest thing.  Standing there watching your girls run up the hill, all smiles and being as silly as they can, I turned to say something to you about them.  When I turned smiling at my own thought and ready to share them with you I realized you weren't there it was one of those heart squeezing moments.  Similar to about a month ago when I picked up the phone and pushed "talk" only to remember that you wouldn't answer (no matter how many times I called).  I felt so lonely.  I could feel the weight on me of how things have changed now and won't ever be the same.  

Now that summer is here that is what my mind is constantly flipping to last summer.  All those lazy days around the house, going shopping, sewing, Harry Potter movies, spending the morning laying in your bed talking while the kids played, swimming, and looking for days for dresses for the wedding.  Going to the Brown's house together on the last night I saw you.  Chatting with you and saying "goodbye".  That one last hug, one last wave.  One last look.  I miss how we could not talk for a month or see each other for half a year but as soon as we were together we would just fall into "our thing" like we hadn't skipped a beat.  Like 2000 miles didn't separate us.  But the space that separates us now can feel so heavy at times and others not so much.  I miss you.  I love you.

Love, Lar

Day 27

Dear Melynda,

I will never forget how good you were to me as a teenager. Whenever we would come down to St. George you would haul me and Jay around wherever you went. Whenever I drive over Foremaster Drive, in St. George, and down the hill on my way to Costco I always think of the times that we would go "mudding" with Ashton. We would climb in his truck and drive over the hill where, at the time, almost nothing was out there. We would then barrel over the red dirt right after it had rained. Slipping and sliding around. It was so scary! There would be so much mud we couldn't see out the windshield. We would laugh and laugh.
Remember the time we went to Charlie's. I was sitting in the back of Ashton's old boat of a car and he peeled out of there and took a corner really fast. I literally rolled from one side of the car to the other and slammed my head against the window. He felt so bad and apologized over and over again. Man I was cool! but you would still bring me along.
Or there is the time during spring break that we walked the boulevard and some guys picked you and your friends up. They had a couch in the back of their truck and we rode around with them for awhile. Your friends never said anything to us about tagging along. It was just understood that when we were around we got to come with you. Whether secretly inside you dreaded this...it wouldn't surprise me because I would...you never showed it. You were always so happy when we were there and always so glad to share your life in St. George with us.
I would NEVER in a million years let my little sister tag along. I still can't put my finger on why you did, but those are some of the best memories of my preteen and teenage years. Those became the precursor to the all the time I would spend tagging along with you a Dave. I am so grateful that you would let me be so apart of your life. It is a huge blessing to me. I am grateful to have those memories told for the next little while until we can make more.
I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar