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

Day 26

Dear Mel,

I am sorry. I know I am not consistent enough. Even though I still number everyday like I am. :) I am just going to be honest. I just can't. My heart is there but in the end I have realized that my thirty day project will probably take close to sixty. Everyday I think about you. Some days are clear and concise and I know exactly what I want to say. Others, most days, are a jumble of thoughts and feelings. My ability to write it down greatly depends on my "emotional state" for the day. Usually if I am having a tough day I tend to be more willing to "emotionally vomit"...those are your words BTW...on you and I feel better. Other days I am relatively happy and I don't want to touch for fear of sinking again. I have to take full advantage of my good days and also allow my bad days to flush themselves out. So, once again you have become my sounding board just like normal. This a little harder though because you never talk back. I my mind though I always like to imagine that I know you well enough by now that I know just how you would react and what you would say. Someday you may have to correct me on that assumption.
The other day I cracked open my photos. The ones I came home with after your funeral and haven't dared to look at since. I didn't want to think about it at all. I didn't need help recalling how much I miss you, but that was a good day, so I decided it was better to do it on a good day than a bad one. It was actually really fun. I love watching you change over the years. All my photos are of you in high school and when you were still having babies. Many of them you are pregnant...which I know were your favorite.
Today the ones that did prick my heart were the ones I found of you, me, and Jay. Now that she is the only living sister I have I tend to lean on her more than I should. She and I are in the same place. We both deal very differently. She usually calls and talks and I know she is having a bad by the sound of her voice even though she doesn't say it. She doesn't want to talk about it she just wants someone on the other line. Me I like to fix everything. Anything I come to understand I want to share so I can make it better for her. Believe me I know how SUPER annoying it is but it is just my compulsion and the majority of the time it gets the better of me.
God knew what he was doing when he made the three of us sisters. He knew we needed each other. He knew he could put three people together and while they were all very different they all had good hearts and he knew that we would understand how much we needed one another. I rejoice in my heart often over the fact that our brothers and sister have accepted our need to be together and our desire to share in one another lives. I know with your death it has brought many questions to the surface about how good of a person I am to those I love most, but deep down I know that we did care for each other and we all showed it by our dedication to each other and their families. You were a great sister. I would give anything to go back and live each memory with you over the last twenty-seven years. I curse my mind almost daily for the loss of memory I already feel I am having. I just pray that maybe when the cloud lifts from my mind things may be a little clearer. I need you. I need you so bad it hurts. I have so many questions. So many things I took for granted that I could ask you and now when I think of them a pain shoots through my heart. I know there are others around me to ask that I trust but the difference is is that in your answers I am sure. Others I have to evaluate and think through but I trust your opinion completely. I know you always try to do the right thing. I know that you take the time to think it through. I often finding myself wanting to ask you questions about your girls and if you were in my situation what would you do. Often times I don't know how we will get through this life. Sometimes things feel like they are going to fall apart before we see you again. I know there is hope in the Savior, in your resurrection, but it is the right here and now that scares me. The next few years. I don't know what to do for your girls. I don't know how to calm their breaking hearts. Sometimes I feel like everyone around them is in such a terrible spot to help because we don't even know what we are doing. Plus we are just trying to keep our heads above water, too. I don't know how to be something I am not. They don't want me or Jay they want you and that is the hardest thing of all. There is no fix there is only band aides. They stay for awhile and then they fall off and it all opens up again.
I remember all those weekends when the three of us would get together and revel in our motherly bliss. More like chaos. It was to watch them enjoy each other and be together. Take in how each of us handle our own children. Watch as you worked furiously to be the favorite aunt to all of me and Jay's kids. (We know that is your secret. To be all their favorites. You were/are pretty tough competition. I feel like I will never top you and I am not sure I want to.) I remember the laughing, talking, fights (between kids), mass meals produced, and projects. Like the time we decided to turn Jayanne's bedroom into a photo studio. We dressed them all up and took a thousand shots of them all together. Now they hang on Dad's wall. Fun was had, being together was what it was really all about, and we would ended the day exhausted. I lived for times like that in Utah. To be honest I am scared to go back. Scared for the quietness that will accompany such an event without you. Scared of the absence that will be painfully apparent. I wonder often if we will ever share such moments again. I imagine we will because I think the next life will be filled with happiness and those are some of my happiest here on earth. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Easter With Meaning

A time of reflection.

In all the history of the world there have been many great and wise souls, many of whom claimed special knowledge of God. But when the Savior rose from the tomb, He did something no one had ever done. He did something no one else could do. He broke the bonds of death, not only for Himself but for all who have ever lived—the just and the unjust.

When Christ rose from the grave, becoming the firstfruits of the Resurrection, He made that gift available to all. And with that sublime act, He softened the devastating, consuming sorrow that gnaws at the souls of those who have lost precious loved ones. (Joseph B. Wirthlin, “Sunday Will Come,” Ensign, Nov 2006, 28–30)

Day 25

Dear Melynda,

Today is beautiful outside. I imagine where you are it is beautiful too. Today it makes me think of that beautiful red mountain that you are now resting next to. On the way home from school we decided to postpone lunch and naps and go to the park. The weather was calling us. The sunshine and bright colors put light right into me and the soft breeze has a way of blowing out every feeling of sorrow inside. It was wonderful.
This park was refreshing. It has a lot of old fashion toys. A wooden teeter-totter, metal jungle gym and those big metal things you sit on and they whirl around. That is the one that called to me. After watching my kids play for awhile I took some time to push Kate on it. Telling her stories I remembered about playing on them with Jayanne all the time growing up and how they don't make them that much anymore. She could not fathom why since they were the funnest thing at the park. Then I hopped up on it and showed her how I like to ride on them. I would wrap my legs around the bar and lay back with my head in the center. So we both laid back and watched the sky twirl around us. It was like going back in time. It reminded me of all the days Jay and I would spend at your baseball games. Listen to all you girls in the dugout sing all those songs. Our favorite that we still sing today at out house is "Jump Shake Your Booty". I can remember traveling around as a family going to your games. I remember your nickname "band-aid" because you were always getting hurt. When I was that young I don't have any big memories of you. I remember calling you a klutz one times and you were REALLY offended. I do remember admiring you. Admiring how much others liked to be around you. I liked being your sister because everybody liked you.
It is funny how time passes us by and we think we know what the important times in our life are. How we tend to treasure the "big events" in our lifes. I find myself going back more and more to simple memories like this one at the park. The ones that became traditions in a way. I wish I could go back and watch it all again. I wish I could go back with knowledge I have now and take each moment a little slower and work harder at remembering the things I will miss. Watch you with your friends and me on the play ground. What did we say to each other? What did we do together? Did I ever cheer you on as you played? I honestly don't know but I know that thinking back to those times makes me happy. They are good enough that I miss them. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 24

Dear Melynda,

I had an epiphany. Death sucks! I realized this morning why. The Atonement is beautiful and I feel so much peace, but now after going through all of this I realize that even with our promises from our Savior this is still hard. It makes the blackness and the hopelessness go away but there is still this sucking hole that sometimes "I feel like it is taking me".
I thought this morning that we we as humans are pretty much optimistic by nature. I remember even after all you went through you would continually, after hitting rock bottom, turn it around and convince yourself to get up and find something better. Nothing can keep us down forever. I figured out that this doesn't get better. No matter what low I hit you won't come back. No matter how much I cry your girls will still be without you. I CAN'T DO ANYTHING! That is not something I could wrap my mind around before. I remember after Garrett died it really brought it home to all of us that we could have lost you two years before when you had your stroke. I remember thinking it is okay though we have the gospel it will be alright. We could get through it and we still will. It is just that I didn't realize that no matter what you still have to hurt, you still feel empty, you still feel desperate and sad...you are still gone. There is no remedy or fix. I didn't realize the two weren't related at all.
I know I am being helped and strengthened continuously. I know my Heavenly Father and Savior are always here. I know because otherwise I would let this black hole just take me. I wouldn't get out of bed or talk to anyone. I would just be an angry, resentful mess. The Atonement is beautiful. How much love that must have taken. I can't even imagine loving that deeply that I would willingly take on such pain for someone. It is a battle to handle the small amount I have right now. I know my pain is swallowed up in his, but I also know that we still have to feel some because we are meant to. I know I need to learn from this and grow. I knew there is purpose but sometimes it just feels downright wrong. Against how I thought everything was supposed to be in life.
My mind keeps flipping to a time in The Book of Mormon when the Nephites were taken into bondage by the Lamanites. Their burden became very heavy. Paying heavy taxes, being beaten, I am sure they felt in constant danger for their family and themselves, plus they were no longer allowed to pray. They instead prayed in their hearts and tried to make the best of it. God did not release them from their trial but he did make it so that their burden was easy to bare. They still had to live with all those same struggles and they still felt the sting but God made it so they could do it everyday with His strengths. That is exactly how I feel and it feels my heart with gratitude that I don't have to do this alone.
I can still remember an amazing conversation we had in your infamous truck. We were discussing our childhood. All the ups and downs and challenge that came that we knew most didn't have to go through in their early years. I think that day could have been the day that my testimony really began. You were there telling me about how one day it just hit you. That for all that had happened to you in your childhood it was up to you to forgive. That the Atonement of Jesus Christ made it possible for you to be free of it all. You said you just had this feeling of relief that you could let it all go and move on with life. You didn't have to hate or be vengeful you could just live your life now and be happy. I remember being so awestruck that it was a choice you made and not some magnificent event where God made it all better just by chance. This was the day I really began to think and ponder about the Atonement and what it could do for me in my own life. While I have never had such a moment of yours I have felt the gift and power of the Atonement work continuously in my life. I have felt it slowly extract pain and anguish from my soul. Helped me forgive and even love those who I could easily choose to hate for a lifetime.
Here is another crossroads you were apart of. This one I consider incredibly significant because all that I am is because of my faith in Jesus Christ. I know there were many seeds of faith planted along the path of my life but this is one of the biggest changes I can remember. Where I actively chose to use the Atonement. That testimony would then go on the help me on several occasions in my life. Thanks for teaching me a lesson that is now saving me. I couldn't get through this without my faith. I know all will be well. This experience has brought new life into this Easter season. As I have suffered more sorrow than I ever have it has brought new understanding into my heart about what the Savior chose to do. There is a wonderful video here that shows the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. It isn't fancy or exciting it is very raw and plain with emotion. As I see him in pain I think I have felt more pain and despair than I thought anyone could handle but he went through more and he did it for everyone. I couldn't change my circumstances but he, however, didn't have to suffer at all if he chose not to. He did, though, and now because of that he understands. He can help. He can lift our burdens. I rejoice in someone who loved us enough to do this. I feel hope in God's plan because of it. I don't think I will ever fully understand the Atonement, in this life, but I testify that it is real. That it is available to all. It is already paid for we just need to make use of it.
Thank you for your lesson that has changed me for forever. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 23

Macie and you working on our treat.

Dear Melynda,

Saturday is my least favorite day of the week. I don't know what it is but it always gets to me. Today being a rainy day really fits the mood but it only makes me feel worse. Here's to more sunny days.
We are preparing for our "Pizza Factory Movie Night". Titled by Kate. I remember being in Utah with you and we were preparing for a movie night at your house. It was Friday night and we were all ready to have fun. You had been working so hard in physical therapy all week, the girls had had lots of homework every night that week and lets face it with all my kids and that many people squeezed into your house we really needed to do something fun. I was in the room laying out blankets and pillows with Maya and Abbi while you and Macie worked on some sort of new treat to share with everyone. You were always good at coming up with new treats. I think that night you made up some yummy camel popcorn with a marsh mellow base so it was really chewy. You would always give me crap when we cooked together because I ALWAYS follow the directions and measure out everything. Where you on the other hand almost NEVER use directions or measure.
I remember watching all the kiddos settle in to watch the show. Popcorn in hand and excited look on their face as the show began. I remember us standing in the kitchen watching all those sweet little faces of ours and you saying, "I love rewarding my kids after a hard week of work." I have no idea why but I have never let that thought go. I have started similar rituals over the past year with my kids. Making a point to once a week do something they love. Usually it does revolve around a movie because, well, they really love movies. We have good food, if dad is home we blow up the air mattress, have a fun dinner, and pic a kid/adult friendly movie. It is tradition for us that began right in your home. Now we never have one of those nights without thinking of you.
I remember the last movie night I had with you this summer ended up on a Sunday. All my kids ended up sick and so we couldn't go to church. After a long day at home that night we curled up and watched "Pride and Prejudice". Of course the BBC one. Looking back it is one of the happiest memories I have. You were the first one who introduced me to them and I remember that night last July us smiling and laughing over Mr. Darcy and Lizzy just like we did the first time we watch it when I was fifteen. No the movie wasn't really for our kids. They only stuck around for the first video out of all five, but wow! it is a good last memory for me. I am grateful for all the traditions and things that brought us together. Thanks for making so many awesome memories and being such a profound part of my life. The more I have gone through this experience I can see every profound thing in my life that you have been apart of. I can take out each experience and say if you hadn't of been there my life would be very different. Thanks for being at so many crossroads. Some big some small but all incredibly important to who I have become. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Enjoying the show!

**Please feel free to leave a comment. I have been getting visitors from all over the world. I am intrigued by those of you who so diligently stop by to read a story about my sister. I know some of you know Melynda and some don't. Some visit because you are friends of mine and this is your first time stopping by. I think some may visit to be close to her or maybe to just understand. Either feel free to leave a note, message, or story to share with us all. Mel was a great lady and I love all of you who love her, too. Messages to me are just like getting a letter in the mail. It is like getting a present you didn't know was coming!

Day 22

Dear Melynda,

Saturday is my least favorite day of the week. I don't know what it is but it always gets to me. Today being a rainy day really fits the mood but it only makes me feel worse. Here's to more sunny days.
We are preparing for our "Pizza Factory Movie Night". Titled by Kate. I remember being in Utah with you and we were preparing for a movie night at your house. It was Friday night and we were all ready to have fun. You had been working so hard in physical therapy all week, the girls had had lots of homework every night that week and lets face it with all my kids and that many people squeezed into your house we really needed to do something fun. I was in the room laying out blankets and pillows with Maya and Macie while you and Abbi worked on some sort of new treat to share with everyone. You were always good at coming up with new treats. I think that night you made up some yummy camel popcorn with a marsh mellow base so it was really chewy. You would always give me crap when we cooked together because I ALWAYS follow the directions and measure out everything. Where you on the other hand almost NEVER use directions or measure.
I remember watching all the kiddos settle in to watch the show. Popcorn in hand and excited look on their face as the show began. I remember us standing in the kitchen watching all those sweet little faces of ours and you saying, "I love rewarding my kids after a hard week of work." I have no idea why but I have never let that thought go. I have started similar rituals over the past year with my kids. Making a point to once a week do something they love. Usually it does revolve around a movie because, well, they really love movies. We have good food, if dad is home we blow up the air mattress, have a fun dinner, and pic a kid/adult friendly movie. It is tradition for us that began right in your home. Now we never have one of those nights without thinking of you.
I remember the last movie night I had with you this summer ended up on a Sunday. All my kids ended up sick and so we couldn't go to church. After a long day at home that night we curled up and watched "Pride and Prejudice". Of course the BBC one. Looking back it is one of the happiest memories I have. You were the first one who introduced me to them and I remember that night last July us smiling and laughing over Mr. Darcy and Lizzy just like we did the first time we watch it when I was fifteen. No the movie wasn't really for our kids. They only stuck around for the first video out of all five, but wow! it is a good last memory for me. I am grateful for all the traditions and things that brought us together. Thanks for making so many awesome memories and being such a profound part of my life. The more I have gone through this experience I can see every profound thing in my life that you have been apart of. I can take out each experience and say if you hadn't of been there my life would be very different. Thanks for being at so many crossroads. Some big some small but all incredibly important to who I have become. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 21

Dear Melynda,

I think one of the best virtues I learned from you is self confidence. I was almost on the ground rolling the other day thinking about your old truck. Grandma tells the story about when you moved down there, to St. George, they gave you Grandpa's old truck. The one that you could hear from two or three blocks over coming down the street and was about fifteen years past its expiration date. You only lived about five blocks from the Dixie High School, so you would hope in your truck drive two blocks hop out and walk the rest of the way. Then, grandma says, each day you would park a little closer until finally you parked right in the parking lot with everybody else.
Then came my test. You came to live back in North Ogden for awhile after you graduated to help out. I was in junior high at the time and those image things are kind of a big deal. You dropped me off that morning without much attention. It is easy to get lost in all the traffic of the morning. Then you came to pick me up that afternoon. I remember standing there with my friends I could here you a block and a half away coming up by the cemetery. I remember you pulling into the drive and I just bent over laugh. I was not embarrassed at all. I remember looking into the window and seeing your big smile and a laugh on your lips. You and your truck made a big "I'm HERE!" statement. I just remember being so glad you were there, so glad you lived with us, so glad about all of it. I didn't care what anyone else thought. I was proud of you as my sister even if everyone else thought we were crazy.
This same principle came back later in life. I remember after your stroke I felt so betrayed. I felt like your body had just given up on you. It felt so unfair to see you all the sudden in a broken body. Now you had to endure a severe stutter, a wheel chair, and right side paralysis. I think the hardest thing was loosing that big smile. That was one of the hardest for me to watch. So many times when we were together having fun I would wait to see one of your big grins only to see half your face respond. It was always a reminder of what had been lost. You handled it with such grace. You pushed through it slowly just like you did with the truck. Ever so slowly inching closer and closer until you realized those who loved you would love you no matter what and the rest could fall by the wayside.
In a way I think you earned more respect and love because of your ability to handle your struggles so well. Just like me, you taught so many people that it really doesn't matter what others say. One of your greatest achievements was your ability to make friends and your greatest skill was kindness. Your laugh and happy smile would push away all those who looked upon you with doubt or uninterested. They would see you, hear you, and watch who you were and they would want to know you. This is something I hope is secretly tucked away in your girls minds. They have had a front row seat to all your greatest moments for the past decade. Plus I don't think it is something I can teach them. They are so lucky to have you as a mom. I am lucky to have you as my sister. All these memories bring me joy to look back on to help me continue to be who I want to be. Your example and your memory still lives with us. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 20

Dear Mel,

I have something to say to you and I am just praying that I can say it in the right way. Tonight I was walking Carter up to his bed. I hold my kids a little closer each day. I have realized I have a new worry for dying. My soul has become awakened to how temporary our body is. While I do not fear death I do fear all the heart ache it would leave in its wake. So I was thinking of you as I walked him upstairs. I was thinking of the past year of your life, then the past two before that, and the stark contrast that those, almost, three years, had on your life. I know it is a natural things to take about those who have passed and memorialize them as perfect but I have realized I can't do that with you. Unfortunately I am your sister, we have had our squabbles, and I have known you for my whole life. I know you aren't perfect, I know you have made a wrong choice, and I know that you do have your weaknesses.
Now before you go and give me your eye, piercing stare I want you to know that these are the memories I love about you. You are amazing you always have been. You have always had a keen sense of optimism. You have always been able to laugh things out, but I also know of times that it hasn't been so easy. When you haven't wanted to. When you have had to fall back on your choices, and not just your natural abilities, and decide who you wanted to be.

That is why the last three years of your life were remarkable. You had been through the ringer before but nothing compared to these last three years. That is what I remember. I remember it becoming hard, and then harder. Then I remember when I left town for the first time after your stroke saying to Dave, "It can't get any worse from here." He said, "Don't say that! You don't know". Then you had a second mini stroke and lost your speech. I remember coming back again to help a couple weeks later. On one particularly special night I remember a long conversation between the two of us, which you weren't even able to finish because it became too hard to speak, where you stated your discouragement. You laid all your questions and frustrations out there. I was so worried, and so heart broken. Then the amazing happened as it often does with you. You made a choice. You knew you had one. You could either wither in bed and become bitter and alone or you could do something about it.

You worked SO hard! You put everything you had into. I remember some days picking you up from rehab and you being so hurt and tired but you kept on going. I really feel like you almost completely became a whole new person in a lot of ways.
That is what I am going to teach your girls. Heck ya! you had weaknesses and so will they, but we all have a choice. Look what God made because you let him. Look at all the good you did because you were willing to do it. I know you can't possibly comprehend all the good you have done but let me tell you some times it is overwhelming to us because of all the love people show for you. You have changed lives.
So no. I am not ready to die. I still haven't mastered that one step. I do have a lot of faults but I am not as willing to say "go ahead and do what you will and I will make the best of it".
I do aspire to be like my big sister. I am grateful to have a sister that I can trust in and look up to. I know you have tried so hard to follow the Savior's example. Thank you for not being perfect, but also thank you for being brave enough to make all those imperfections the best they can be. I know it took so much courage and strength. I know you have "a reservoir of strength that has not been tapped". I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Obituary

Kind of strange that it took me this long to get a hold of her obituary but the week of I wasn't thinking much about saving it. By the time I was it was off of every website I could find. I just happened to find it tonight. Thought I would post it for those of you who didn't get to read it. It is very descriptive. My favorite when he speaks of how she considered mothering a "fine art". I can attest that she did. She worked so hard at it. Also my other favorite is when David writes about her throwing arm. She was always tough:)...

Much loved Melynda Ann Miller Thomas, age 31, died Jan. 11,2012. She was loved by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her. She was born April 14,1980, to Micheal and Denece Miller. She was sealed to David Lyle Thomas May 1,1999,in the St. George Temple. She will be dearly missed by very many including her husband David and her three little ones, Maya , Macie, and Abbi.

Melynda was a skilled and caring mother. She considered parenting a fine art and an indispensable craft. Since she excelled at all arts and crafts, it follows that she would make a great mom. Patient, caring and fun loving, she was always committed to teaching her girls the skills necessary to become happy, productive little people. Her love for her daughters and their love for her were enormous.

Melynda was a gifted person, perhaps the greatest of which was being able to make close friends. A person couldn’t sit down to talk to Melynda without feeling they had made a life long friend. It was as if she were a rock star when she entered a room sometimes, complete with fanfare and screaming fans. It was awesome to watch.

She was a wonderful wife. Melynda and David had much more than their share of laughs in the twelve years they spent together. David could not have asked for a better wife. She always loved him even as she was throwing a well-deserved pan at him. She always maintained her softball-throwing arm.

No review of Melynda’s life would be complete without the mention of the remarkably wide variety of talents she developed in her life. A first class cook, her parties were famous. As a crafter extraordinaire, she made things that people actually wanted to buy. Floral design, jewelry, furniture making, drawing, scrap booking, clothing design and production, heavy equipment operating, cement flatwork, and more were all things she enjoyed. One of her mottos was “I could make that.”

She had a world-famous laugh and a smile that would make the sun rise. She was truly an amazing person. Passionate about life and always up for an adventure, she always maintained a good attitude, even when things went wrong. Whether it was camping trips from hell, getting lost in Tijuana, or suffering life changing injury, she took life’s setbacks with a smile and asked herself “ What can I learn from this?”

She will be remembered for the many close friendships that she had, the love that she shared freely with everyone and her desire to be of use to her fellow men. She will be remembered for her can-do attitude, her sense of style, and her courage in the face of extreme hardship. For her family, her memory will always define love. And of course she will be remembered for that laugh.

Lastly I wanted to add a link to a woman who wrote to our family after Melynda died. She had a daughter, Natalie, who died suddenly a few years back. She and Melynda knew each other in high school. She wrote the most heart felt note to us and I just found that she keeps a blog for her lovely daughter and wrote a post about her and Melynda. Here is also the scripture she left at the end. It is wonderful:

"In the words of Joseph Smith, that “the only difference between the old and young dying is, one lives longer in heaven [the spirit world] and eternal light and glory than the other, and is freed a little sooner from this miserable wicked world. Notwithstanding all this glory, we for a moment lose sight of it,

and mourn the loss, but we do not mourn as those without hope.”

Day 19

Dear Melynda,

I have been having a great day. Now I am in tears. That is just life right now. I have been given a special little present and I want to share it. When you were in the hospital a friend of yours left this message on facebook that contained a letter to him that you had written a year ago. You both had chronic health issues and he had sent you a message and this was your reply. I never saw it until tonight. It was like hearing your voice again! Something I have longed to do. Thank you for that and "thank you" to your wonderful friend, Tommy, for sharing it with us. I sure it was inspired for him to put that there so on a night like tonight it could be there for me...and others, I am sure. There are tender mercies everywhere.

Tommy
Thanks for the encouraging words. I'm so sorry you have crohn's My older brother Chad has it it's a terrible disease. It's funny reading your message . How different challenges can be yet similar. How hardship can change you to your soul and when it is all said and done, We hope that we deal with it as Heavenly Father would have us deal with it. I tell people all the time it has been the hardest , best 2 years of my life. I would not wish it on anyone.But I wouldn't wish it away either, if I had to send my testimony and the knowledge I've learned with it. Do you ever wonder some times though, what we were thinking when they handed out trails. Did we really volunteer for these? or was it more of all the good trails are taken so these were left overs? How's that for a contradiction GOOD TRIALS?!? I have 3 daughters and I have seen more compassion from them and service through this, then I could have ever tried to teach them with a unbroken body. And through each step it's been a testimony of Heavenly Fathers grace and divine power.
I have had to find my new normal, and the blessings of this new normal, and laugh my way through it. Life is good, but I think I've gotten all my trails out of the way right?!? God can't send any more my way .STROKE-check CRUSHED MY SPINE- check, LOST MY SPEECH-check, RIGHT SIDE PARALYSIS-Check. I'm all done with mine..
Oh how I wish that were true. Thanks for the prayers and the encouragement, It means a lot to me.
Thanks again
Melynda Thomas

This is a testimony I often heard you bare and share with many. I am glad you may "rest from your labors" for awhile. And in case you don't already know your girls are wonderful, incredible little people who you have taught to be so strong and good. I know you are proud of who they are and who they are becoming.

This letter reminds me of when I came for the second time to Utah after your stroke and stayed with you. You were discouraged. After one particularly hard night, when you couldn't even finish your sentences because it was so hard to talk, I was incredibly worried about. It was all so difficult to understand why you were going through all this. The most incredible day came when I came back a while later and you basically laid it all out. You were so grateful for all that you had been through. Grateful for the testimony you had gained, the knowledge of your Savior you had obtained, and other special spiritual gifts you had obtained that come from no other way but practice.

That was a beautiful day. Not only to see you so happy but to be able to know for sure and gain my own testimony that God knows what he is doing. I know now that that small moment of testimony from you has been part of a foundation that I am now solely relying on . I am trusting in your words and what I already know about Jesus Christ and His promises to get through this.

I have a strong feeling someday, in the next life, we will look back and see the big picture and we will REJOICE in all of this. I anticipate that day with great excitement. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Larin

Day 18

Dear Mel,

I could use a laugh. Just one. That isn't a lot to ask for. Today Carter did something silly. I laughed out loud, hard. I have never been so sad but also found myself so able to laugh. I almost feel like there is some force inside of me that knows you are now silent in this world so I need to make up for the sound of laughter that is now at a deficit. I have never consciously done it but it just slips out. I am so grateful for it. I have trying to relish laughing as much as you did. I am learning to love what a good laugh can do for your spirit. It is a gift from God.
I think that it was one of the things that attracted people to you. You would go and talk to someone new and would continually smile and laugh through the whole conversation. You had a way of making them feel like everything they said and thought mattered. That is why you had a billion friends. The best was when your laugh would become contagious and you could watch them start to light up as well. Others felt better just being around you. I want my kids to run to you and you show them how loved they are. I want to see that light on their faces. I want you to talk to Chris and tease him like no one else can. I want you, me, Cam, Jay, and Chad to all sit in a room and feed off each other with our laugh. Those were the best. It would just get bigger and louder with each laugh.
I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 17

Dear Melynda,

I don't really have a story today. I just have this sad residing feeling inside of me that I miss you. I am sad for myself and I am sad for all the others who miss you, too. I know I didn't love you the most, loved you a lot, but there were others whose sorrow is deeper. Whose hole is emptier. I sorrow for it all. Tonight I just have a constant ache that has taken hold in my chest and my eyes feel a pressure that won't let go. Mostly though it is in my spirit that I feels it. A deep heaviness. I am coming to visit you in Utah for your birthday, but I won't see your smile or hear your laugh. I won't be able to lay in your bed all night long as we discuss and dissect all aspects of life...or just laugh a lot.
I just thought of one of my favorite memories: David and Chris would play video games until the wee hours of the morning when you were in Hurricane. You and I would hang out, talk, scrapbook, and eventually just go climb in your bed. Resigning ourselves to the fact that they were in another world "saving the universe" and that we should just enjoy our selves while they are away. We would talk and talk and talk until one of us would be mid sentence and fall asleep. That is how we would stay until we were rustled awake by one of them apologetically telling us they were done. I would mumble a confused "goodnight" and we would leave our ritual until next time Star Wars beckoned them.
Flip to a few years later to this summer. You had slept in that morning so after David left I shyly cracked the door to see if you were okay. You said "ya come in". I walked right in and made my way right over to your bed and laid right by you and we fell right back into our old selves. Laying there chatting, laughing, and just having fun together. I was surprised by how comfortable I fell right back into and by how much I had missed it. It was one of my favorite places. Plus it was one of the softest beds I have ever laid in and I made a point to tell you so every time I was there.
When I think back to some of our most private and special conversation many took place laying right there on those pillows. I really yearn to just crawl back in your soft bed and talk over all the cares of the world. Back to easier times when things were clearer to me.
I know that is not why we are here. While I do wish to carry on our amazing traditions and I feel incredibly cheated for everything that has been taken away I don't wish you back. There is not one ounce of me that doesn't knows you are in a good place. There is not one part of me that doubts that you, me, all of us are in Heavenly Father's hands. He cares for us and he keeps us. I know he will help us. His ways are not mine. His are so much more eternally focused and I am grateful for that. I rejoice that after the trials of this life we may resume all these fond rituals and traditions and I am sure we will have time to make more. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar

Day 16

Dear Melynda,

I can think back to so many happy times in your life. You are a generally very happy person. You love to be happy and I often remember hearing you say, "life is good". This always brought me relief in your latter years to hear this because superfically life wasn't good. It was really, really hard for you, but I knew during those moments of "life is good" that you could see the sunshine through all the gray. There was gray but there was so much good. I think the most good you have done is with your girls.
Memory takes me back to the happiest time I think I have ever seen you. You and David had come up to Northern Utah to visit. You were about to pop with another baby girl, or at least in my memory you looked like it. I have this vivid memory of you walking from the kitchen to the couch and you were almost bouncing and filled with a vibrant glow. You had your huge smile across your face and all was right with the world. You had wanted another baby so badly and it had taken you longer than you thought. If there is one thing I know you did right it is being a mom. You are a wonderful mom. You cherish that position above all else, except for being a wife. As Dave put it, you considered it a "fine art". I think that is a great way to put it because fine art takes one part talent and two parts work. You worked hard.
I remember one particular Sunday when Maya was three. She had been really naughty at church, so you came home and sat her on a chair. When it was time you told her she could get off. Well, she got off that chair walked straight over to the fridge, opened it, pulled out a jug a milk and dropped it on the floor spilling it everywhere. She then looked at you with her most defiant look and went and sat back on time out with out a word said. You did so well. I know you lost your cool sometimes but I also saw you show great love and compassion when it was difficult to summon.
Last night with a group of ladies we were discussing how we can show better patience with our own children. I couldn't say it out loud, but I think that is one of the most important things I have learned from you. When I get mad, and I definitely do, I go to a memory of you talking calmly, probably to Maya, and I try to mimic that voice and calmness.
I'm grateful that I was able to see you raise your girls. They were almost exactly the same age as my own kids. I feel it is a special blessing that I was able to spend so much time living under your own roof. I miss you. I love you!

Love, Lar