Wow...my very first blog. I don't know how to start or what to say! I've never been too good at this sort of thing...opening up to a blank canvas. Guess I'll start by sharing a little part of my life with whomever chooses to read. Just a few things I've been learning here and there...

In October 2005, my life changed forever. That Tuesday morning on my way to work, I picked up my cell phone and hit speed dial five...my sister, Melanie. It went straight to voicemail, so I went to speed dial six...her and her family's house. No answer. To some, no answer after several attempts is no big deal. For me and Mel, however, it was anything but normal. We spoke every morning no matter what...and it didn't stop there. Numerous times throughout the day, we would call just for the heck of it or because we saw something funny or because we were upset and needed to vent. That was the beauty of our sisterhood and best friendship. We didn't need a reason to call...we just did.

So, yeah...that morning was concerning and the concern increased throughout the day. 10:00 a.m. and no answer. 11:15...nothing. Lunch time...straight to voicemail. All afternoon...not a word. I thought perhaps she was covering a big story. Ya' see, Melanie was a journalist...and the best journalist there ever was. She wasn't just a reporter. She was a legend. To me, she was the best kept secret in the newspaper world. Many papers knew of her work and treasured her ethics, integrity, and morality. She was crucial to every company she worked for. So yeah...I thought maybe she was out digging around for information about her story on meth. Then again, Cody's in school. He's been doing well, but still has a few issues. Since Mel and Paul adopted him at two years old, he's gone through periods of highs and lows. Nine year olds can certainly have their days, so...maybe she's at his school dealing with something.

I left work at 5:00 p.m. That night was a bit different 'cause I had nothing at church and no meetings to attend. I was actually able to go home and just chill out. The minute I walked outta' my office door, I was hitting speed dial five again. Still nothing. I tried calling my Mom to see if she had heard from Mel, but couldn't reach her, either. I stopped by Pink Dance Studio to drop off a CD to Randi. We spoke for a bit, then I headed to the house. I got about five miles from home and decided to try once more. I hit speed dial six. That one call threw the whole course of my life into a whirlwind. My Faith would be soon be tested. My sanity put to the test.

My brother-in-law answered. "Hey, Paul! Where's Mel?"

"Sherrie...where are you?"
"I'm a couple of minutes from the house."
"Sherrie...you need to pull over."
"Why? What's up?"
"Sherrie...are you stopped?"
"Yeah...what's wrong, Paul?"
"Sherrie...your sister has passed away."

All I can remember the five minutes after that statement is the sound of my heart breaking and cries of absolute anguish and sorrow. I've never felt such physical and emotional hurt. Those words reached a depth in my stomach that I never knew existed. As crazy as it sounds, I seriously felt as if I had an out of body experience. I've never screamed like that. I've never ached like that.

Somehow, I made it home. I honestly don't remember that drive. When I arrived home, my parents weren't there and it scared me to death. My first thoughts were, "They've left for Columbus and forgot about me." I had no one there. I called my Mom...no answer. I called my Dad...no answer. "They've forgotten about me. How am I going to drive four hours to Columbus, GA like this?" In my chaotic state of mind, I seriously believed my family had forgotten about me and left me there.

The only person I knew would answer the phone was Randi simply because I had just left her work. She answered and I could do nothing but scream. I remember her asking, "Who is this?" Somehow...some way...she understood what I was saying and said she'd be at my house in a few minutes. I remember hanging up the phone, getting out of my car, and falling to my knees. All I could do was cry. It was the deepest cry I've ever known...the most hurt I had ever felt. Everything around me was a blur until I heard someone honking a horn.

There came my Mom down the driveway. Just like normal, she had the window down and a smile on her face. I suddenly realized she had no idea that her oldest child and closest friend had been stripped from us. Even more, the realization that I was the one that would have to tell her left me speechless. The closer she got to me, the more she realized the look of shock and horror on my face. The smile grew to concern and worry, then worry to absolute fear. She knew something terrible had happened, but I know she could've never imagined it would be something like this.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Mom...have you talked to Paul?"
"No. Why?"

All I could do was shake my head and fall to my knees once again.

"Sherrie? Where's Melanie?"

How could I say it out loud? To this day, I can't say those words. I can't even type them now. I tried to say it, but I couldn't. My Mom--still sitting in her vehicle--began beating the steering wheel and let out a scream I'll never in a million years forget, but will try to erase it for the rest of my life. She knew. I didn't have to say it. She knew.

Immediately after that, my Dad drove up. He had no idea. He knew something wasn't right. I was on my knees crying and my Mom almost unable to walk. She went straight to him and all she could say was, "Melanie. Melanie." My Dad grabbed his chest and they embraced. They just held on to each other as if they were each other's physical support. Support is exactly what they became to each other in the weeks, months, and years to come.

My brothers...I had to tell my brothers. I called Keith first...no answer. I called Franklin...no answer. As I began walking back to my parents, my cell phone rang and it was Keith. To be honest, I don't even know what I said. All I could do was cry. To this day, I have no idea what I said or how I said it. I remember Frank's call a little more than Keith's. Somehow and in some way, he understood what I was trying to say. Between the gasps for breath and my broken voice, he knew what had just happened. He had to hang up. In the blink of an eye, four siblings dwindled to three. Mel was our hero, our role model, the oldest. She was the one that held us together...the one that advised us, bossed us, and made us better people. She was everything to us.

It was as if the news spread like wildfire. I think that's probably the best thing about living in a small town...everybody knows everybody and they all come together in times of trouble. Randi was the first one there, then Sister Ginger, then Brother Robin and Mrs. Luann...before I knew it, there were probably 20 people there. All we could do is cry. Some sat with us. Others packed our bags. They knew we had a long drive ahead of us.

If she had been in a car accident or in the hospital, it would've been different. There would've been hope. That wasn't the case. It was already over. It was the longest drive of our lives. The grief came in waves. It wasn't just grief, though...it was shock. We would sit in silence, then one would start sobbing. It was like...it just hit us. "Is this really happening? Am I seriously going to Columbus for this reason? Did I just lose my sister, my best friend, my hero?" At that point, the future was very dim.

We drove up to my sister's house. My brothers, sisters-in-law, nephews, and nieces met us at the vehicle. Reality hit when I walked in her house. It was eerily quiet. Her voice was missing. Her laugh was missing. Then, I saw my brother-in-law, Paul. He just sat there...seemingly unable to move. He was hugging my nephew, Cody. I grabbed Cody. All I could do was cry thinking about how he was the very thing she wanted all her life.

One by one, my brothers and their family went home. We all knew the next day would hold events we had never even thought about. I didn't sleep at all that night. Instead, I was in the bathroom throwing up. I never knew emotional hurt could turn into a physical illness. Periodically, I would go into the guest bedroom to check on my parents. They didn't sleep, either. At one point, I went to their bed, knelt down beside it, and just cried. I slept with my nephew that night...he on the top bunk and me on the bottom. He didn't sleep...just tossed and turned. At times, I would say, "Cody...I Love you." He would respond in a broken voice, "I Love you, too, Sherrie."

The next morning, I found out the very thoughts that plagued my nephews all night long. He came in the kitchen and went straight to Paul. His eyes were red and voice extremely shaky. "Dad...can I still live with you or do I need to find another place to live?" This little boy they rescued at two years old had found seven years of complete security...Melanie and Paul. He was so scared. We surrounded him and hugged him like never before. It was clear from that point on that our mission was to make him understand he is our's forever. We are his forever. Nothing would ever change that.

We went to the funeral home. Paul wanted me to pick out the casket, the flowers...everything. I picked an ivory casket with doves on the side. Why doves? Because she's now at Peace. She was the lucky one, for she was with our Father. We were the ones left behind to suffer, to grieve, and to long for Home.

Visitation in Columbus was on Thursday night. Wow. What a legacy she left behind. Of course, she was everything to us, but to know she was just that to so many others was a bit surreal. They had only been in Columbus for five years, yet about 600 came to pay their respects. Friday, we came home. We drove up to find tons of cars in our yard and so much food on our table. We weren't alone...so many friends to Pray for us and support us.

Saturday came. I didn't want it to, but it did. It would be final that day. The funeral was at one that day. Visitation was from ten to one. We got to the church and there were already so many. Geraldine, AL...the birthplace of the Hiett family. Everybody knew us and we knew everybody. Melanie was somewhat of an icon there. The line was endless...all the way out of the church and about a mile down the street. Hundred upon hundreds were there...and my Mother hugged everyone of them. She would often say, "I felt like Melanie was in each person there and I wanted as much of her as I could get." I stood in amazement at her. That's the Love of a mother.

Life from October 2005...it's been different. Very different. It'll never be the same. I've learned more about God and my Faith than I ever thought possible. I've learned that I have a choice to live. I've learned who and what real friends are. Most of all, I've learned that I have a legacy to pass down just like Melanie did. I want so much to be to just one person what she was to hundreds...to everyone she came in contact with.

How's this for my first blog? Probably too long and I'm sure not many will want to read this. That's okay. It's the first time I've ever gotten all this out. It wasn't meant to be for you. For once, it was for me. I needed this.

What am I like now? Well...I'm different. I moved to Boaz in August 2007, began leading Worship at a new church in September 2007, and started a new job in February 2008. I've lost 36 pounds and counting. My whole outlook on life has changed dramatically. I'm not the same person I was...and I never will be again.

For a couple of years after losing Mel, I quit living. As a matter of fact, I chose not to live. My choice now...I'm taking her with me. I'm learning to be so much of what she was...a person of Faith, a person of character, a person of integrity, a person chasing after who she knew I could be...who she always told me and believed I could be.

I'm successful. I know I can do anything.

I'll never understand why Melanie was taken so suddenly. I don't know that I'll ever find the reason. However, I've learned and am still learning that I don't have to know. It's not my job to know. My job is to trust Him...and to know it was a perfect Healing. For that, I am grateful. To know it's not the end...that's what keeps me going.

I can't wait...