So...the letter

write away 006:

Marchelle’s birthday was on December 9th, exactly one year and three months after mine. If Marchelle were still alive she would be 25. She passed away on September 12th, 2007.

Marchelle and I were two of very few girls in our church. We lived in the same town. When we first met, we didn’t go to the same school, but we went to the same church, which was something. Not very many people in our town went to our church.

Marchelle was an only child, living with her mom who came to church, and her step dad who didn’t. I was the fourth child out of five, with two parents who came to church regularly. She was bright and bubbly and I was outgoing and silly. We quickly bonded. All of my memories of us together are full of giggling. We were good friends, but I always felt a bit like an older sister to her.

In fact, I felt like the older sister to all of the kids in our church. My parents, along with other members of our church, reminded me often how much of an example I was to all the kids. It was a responsibility that I did not enjoy or want, and to be honest, one that I didn’t fill. Let’s just say I was somewhat of an experimental youth that took awhile to figure out who I wanted to be. Unfortunately, being one of the few Mormons around didn’t leave a lot of room experimentation. I felt like I was an example, good or bad, to not only the kids in our church, but to everyone.

But that’s a story for another day.
Back to Marchelle…

Even though Marchelle was only one year younger than me, two years separated us in school. As we grew older and entered high school, we both became busy with friends and various activities. We attended early morning seminary together and I drove her to school every morning. Other than that, we really only saw each other in the school hallways and at church activities. Eventually I graduated from high school, moved out here for college, and our relationship consisted of a few phone calls a year. I have to admit; she did most of the keeping in touch. She was so good about calling, emailing, and coming to see me when I was home for the holidays.

I didn’t know much about Marchelle’s personal life after high school and felt like it wasn’t my place to know anymore. I suspected that she wasn’t going to church. Of course, I connected all sorts of dots and felt like somehow I had something to do with that. Maybe if I had….and maybe if I hadn’t….I held onto many regrets. The biggest one being that I never had a conversation with Marchelle about choices I made in high school and my choice to change. Whenever I thought of Marchelle, I felt the weight of my “failure” to be the example everyone expected me to be.

For years I thought about how to talk to her. I had many conversations with her, started many phone calls, emails, and letters, all only in my mind. I never actually reached out. I thought about Marchelle often.

In June of 2007, Marchelle, along with a short list of others, were heavily on my mind. I had some unsettled business with people in my past that I needed to work out. Mostly apologies. Some I needed to tell how much they meant to me because I hadn’t before. Marchelle was in both of those categories. Marchelle was first on my list.

I started writing her a letter. I didn’t have the courage to call her. I didn’t have the faith in myself to be able to express what I wanted and needed to tell her. So I started a letter. I started it, and never finished it. All summer that letter was on my mind. “Finish it!” I heard all the time and kept thinking I eventually would and there was no need to rush. It was ridiculous how strongly I felt I needed to finish that letter and how stubborn I was to actually do it.

Wednesday afternoon, on September 12th, my mom called me. I could tell in her voice that something had happened. She told me that Marchelle had died.

What?

My breath was gone. I could not believe it. Out of all of the people, and of all the things that could’ve happened….

I immediately thought of the letter. I understood the urgency I felt about finishing it. I was devastated.

After lots of tears, reflection, prayers, and verbal apologies to Marchelle herself, I finished her letter. I left the first half as it was. I gave the letter to her mother and asked her to read it to Marchelle at her grave sight. Perhaps that's how is was meant to be.

Marchelle came into my life in a very normal way and did not appear to be of much consequence. Yes, we were friends, but how many friends come and go throughout our lives and eventually become childhood memories and acquaintances we keep in touch with only through facebook? I had no idea how much Marchelle would impact my life.

Marchelle taught me to listen to promptings.
She taught me to get over myself and tell people what they mean to me. Now.
These are two of the most valuable lessons that I have learned in my life thus far.

Marchelle came into my life in a very normal way, but the way she left changed my life forever.