On Tuesday, November 11, 2008 - in Lansing, Michigan - my beautiful, funny, sweet, loving, earthy 34-year old sister walked out her front door and disappeared.
As of January 2010, the Michigan State police investigation is still active and ongoing as a Missing Persons case. Circumstantial evidence abounds, and I believe (know) she was murdered.
When I talked to her (the Friday before she vanished), she was feeling happy about a paid internship she’d just landed in the Horticultural Department at MSU.
She already has/had a biology degree and was acquiring the needed classes to attain a second undergrad degree so she could enroll in her grad program of choice: a Public Gardens Management program at Cornell.
Here is the Lansing State Journal story from November 20, 2008. And the Port Huron Times Herald story from January 4, 2009.
(We both did a few semesters at St. Clair Community College in Port Huron; me in the late 80s, she in the early 90s.)
Years ago while talking about our futures, Krista said, “If we can make our work our Play, we’ll always have fun and will never really have to work.”
In the end, I chose writing (and reading, and thinking, and political and philosophical theorizing).
Krista chose to plant and tend her (or someone’s) gardens. She loved plants and could make anything grow. And wanted to one day own her own greenhouse and nursery.
I trust she is now in charge of a large-ish plot somewhere on the west end of Heaven. Angels are strolling by, nodding and whispering in admiration. She is too busy weeding to notice.
(Are there weeds in Paradise? I believe I will find out when my work play here is done.)
*
Remembering
(updated as things come to me)
We grew up on a farm. We had two horses, various dogs, occasional bunnies and lots and Lots of cats. When we were kids, Krista named all her pet kittens after flowers. Every. Single. One.
My mom once fed us baked rabbit for dinner without revealing what it was. After the meal, she told us. My brother and I said, “Wow, pretty good.” Krista got very upset about the “poor little bunnies” and stomped upstairs and wouldn’t speak to anyone until the next day.
She always had freckles; they were always cute; and she always hated them.
One of Krista’s favorite childhood books was Lisa and the Grompet. It’s about a little girl who runs away from home because she is tired of being told what to do all the time. (She always had Middle Child Sydrome.) While wandering in the forest, Lisa finds a little troll creature – “A grompet. A Grompet! A GROMPET!” – who is very grouchy, and, as it turns out, just LOVES being told what to do. Lisa adopts him showers him with attention and bosses him around from morning until night. And they live happily ever after.
As a child, Krista always hated it when food touched other kinds of food on her plate. “Don’t let it touch!” she would say.
One time when she about 6 years old and had been Very Bad and knew she was in Big Trouble, Krista came waddling down the stairs with a big bed pillow stuffed in the back of her little sweatpants. Nobody could keep a straight face, and she got off without the expected spanking.
She had a light brown birthmark that looked exactly like a little mouse, with a tail, running up the inside of her arm. It was adorable.
She was a good swimmer.
One year the two of us went to Florida to visit family. Our Aunt Donna showed her a crafty thing called “quilling.” Krista liked it, and started doing it. And was Very good at it. I have all kinds of little people and flowers that she made.
Some of the best, longest laughs of my life were shared with her.
I miss her.
I’m not sure if she liked this song or not, but it reminds me of her.
