For Cristi

by Michelle Lasley

Michelle Lasley is a mother, wife in Pacific Northwest learning to balance green dreams with budget realities.

November 7, 2007

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Categories: Family

Simply, for Cristi.

Matty will be posting a blog today regarding my late sister, Cristi. It’s interesting how death affects us. In August, my family made a resolution to have a yearly Cristi Challenge to allow her memory to live on vividly in all of us. Cristi was a go-getter. She was ambitious, driven, passionate, and a humanitarian. She had her faults, some of which she was proud of, like her drinking. But, she didn’t smoke, anything. Drinking, it was her release. I don’t generally condone drinking because of what it did to my biological father, and historically, I’ve never enjoyed being around drunk people. They have bad breath. But, exceptions can be made, and for Cristi they had to be.

She generally had a take me as I am front. But, it was just a front. She craved acceptance for her choices, her life. And her last boyfriend, the one who killed her couldn’t let her be the flower she needed to be to bloom. One starving for acceptance, and another starving for control, a situation that turned lethal. I was shocked when it was said this qualified under Domestic Violence. A duh moment, if you will. How can Domestic Violence be a part of my family? How can something so cruel and viscous be in our lives every day now for the rest of our lives? I will probably always cry when I think of that, realize that.

Although, we’re not over it, we’re also beyond life’s not fair. You have to be, simply to move on. So, instead of What Would Jesus Do, or Who Wants Jack Daniels, it is now What Would Cristi Do? At least once a year. The goal is to do something you’ve always wanted, pondered about, or just challenges you in anyway. And, we’ll think of Cristi as our Coach looking over us, watching us, guiding us, leading the way. I think this has been the fire lit under my butt recently. Things that I can sometimes sweep under the rug, I am more convicted to say something. The creeping passive-aggressive deep within my soul is being squelched, and like when I was pregnant, my tolerance for intolerance is looming at an all-time low. Then, I think of Cristi, and what she would do.

Every day. Every day, I pass by her candle on the counter. Every day, I wonder where she is. Every day, I hope there is a heaven she can be in. Every day I hope her bad deeds did not outweigh her good. Every day I hope and try to take the good she did and incorporate it into mine. Maybe everyone can participate in their own version of a Cristi Challenge, and be the humanitarian she was.

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One Year

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Peter and I were barely working between the two of us, he had been laid off and with struggles feeding Levi I was barely pulling 5 hours a week. We were at the DHS office applying for food stamps when Peter got the call that yes indeed TriMet was offering him a job. We had been at the DHS office since 7:20 am and we finally got home close to 10:30 am. We barely set our things down, relieved that there was more money in our future and we could at least buy food for our small family when the phone rang. It was my mother. It was one of those phone calls where you just know something is wrong, and how wrong it was. She asked if I was sitting down, and I think I sat down. She didn’t wait to tell me and simply said, “Cristi is dead.”

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