August 29 | Cruisin'
On August 22, 2003, eleven months to the day after Melissa's death I went to Anchorage to take the ABATE training class and get my motorcycle license. I passed the classes and got my license and I know Melissa is smiling for me. I use to ride occasionally with Rodney, but this year it took a long time for me to go for a ride with him. Then I decided that I wanted to ride for Melissa.
As we all know she love to ride...anything. Snowmachines, four-wheelers, motorcycles, it didn't matter anything anyone would let her on. So I did my first solo ride on Tuesday with a big smile, like Melissa always had, and thought the whole time of how proud she would be of me.
I just wish she was here to ride with Rodney & I
August 27 | drive in
An order of cheese sticks and a chocolate shake.
The meal she would always get at the Glacier Drive In.
And I mean always.
Sonny, the owner, always knew what she wanted. He would smile at her and nod in a way that told the entire family she didn't need to talk to him if she didn't want to.
It would come with a little tub of cold marinara sauce that she would leave untouched.
And sometimes the cheese part of the cheese sticks would also go untouched; only the crunchy outside crust would be digested. But the shake would never be left behind.
August 11 | Broken
This is something I created in Photoshop. It represents the pain I feel from having Melissa torn from my life. (click it to go to the full-size version)
August 08 | airport hugs
Mom and Melissa drove with me to Fairbanks just before classes at the University started my freshman year. They somewhat helped me unpack and get settled in, and then took a flight back home. When I hugged Melissa before she got on the plane, we were both crying very hard and didnít want to let go. It was the first time I had ever had to say goodbye to her.
For her spring break in 2002 she flew up to Fairbanks to bum around with us for the week. Her hair got dyed, her back got tattooed, and we had a blast playing in the ice park. At the airport before she left, we giggled and put fake signs on closets. The hug was happy and brief.
I drove to Anchorage to see her off to Minnesota last September. It was 4am; she and Carrie had tried to get some sleep before we had to drive to the airport (Mom was even able to stay awake most of the night). Melissa was still a bit sleepy and very apprehensive about getting on the plane, though she would have never admitted it. The hug was firm and I struggled to hold back tears.