Oh Crystal, sweet tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time? Crystal was hard for anyone to understand. She was beautiful, crass, rude, spirited, and loyal to the death. She wasn’t beautiful, she was gorgeous. Gwen Stefani would be jealous of her looks – even though similar, Crystal’s was more ethereal and timeless. She had a fascinating style, “sleeved” arms, a punker pink style.. fluorescent or platinum hair. One might think that tattoos and funny colored hair would detract from a pretty girl’s good looks; It only enhanced hers. She had a bleeding heart for the underdog, a loyalty that would prove to me at times stronger than a blood sister. At first impression, one might mistake her character as cold, odd, distant, and self-consumed, but once she became comfortable in anyone’s presence she proved herself to be anything but.

Crystal didn’t have the sheltered upbringing Olive and I took for granted. No one had ever unconditionally loved her. As I type that it yanks at my heart terribly. I had never met her mother. I knew her father quite well (or so I thought). Crystal’s parents divorced when she was quite young. She lived with her mother until she was 12. On a long distance trip to visit her father one summer, her mother abandoned her at a 7-11 in another state. Her mother called her dad to pick her up as she apparently could no longer handle her rebellious pre-teen. I can’t even fathom the feeling. Being a young girl already suffering from emotional trauma from being molested at 2 years old. To unknowingly, grab a Slurpee for the road to return to the parking lot abandoned and alone. I never asked her how that made her feel. I wish I had. Crystal made no bones about the fact that she despised her mom. I could tell she really loved her and probably wanted nothing more than for her evil mother to emerge from her narcissistic coma to show her daughter some sort of love or loyalty; that never happened. Her father, did not know what to do with this unruly pre-teen, I can only gather, because he never knew how to handle her in to adulthood. Richard was one of those strict Mormons – he didn’t even consume alcohol or caffeine. He never connected with her emotionally. He only would throw money at her to keep her quiet – if only for a few minutes..

Crystal was a stoner, free-spirit who believed in the spirit world, but did not believe in religion. Crystal was out early looking for love in all the wrong places. Anything to fill the void of abandonment and the utter indifference she received from both parents. At 15 she took up with a hardcore cholo type who abused her and drugs. Her father didn’t seem to care that his little girl was infiltrating into a very dangerous, potentially life altering scene. He would even drop her off with this adult man to spend weekends with his only daughter. Once she reached the porch of his house and as his car reached 30mph would he yell out of the car “don’t get pregnant”. Obviously, that form of birth control did not work. Angelica was born November 17, 1999 to a beautiful, emotionally abandoned, lost, teen mother. Crystal would convey how at the moment of Angelica entered the world there was this radiant light that entered the birthing room.

I didn’t meet Angelica until she was almost 2. Anyone who met this child said her name was very fitting as she was really an angel baby. She was the spitting image of Crystal, just half a shade darker. Angelica was an old soul, who was brilliant and unconditionally sweet. She sparkled like a fire cracker; wise beyond her years. It’s funny even though she was technically a baby/toddler when I met her, I always saw the old soul behind her eyes through her all-knowing stare. I met Richard, Crystal’s dad the same day I met Angelica. They all lived together in a luxury apartment in the nicer part of Burbank. Richard was there for Angelica 110%. A lot of people would mistake her for Angelica’s dad because he took such impeccable care of her.

Crystal feeling more and more emotionally lost and therefore battling constantly with addiction and bad men could not be a fulltime mother to Angelica. No doubt she loved that girl the best way she knew how. How can a mother be a mother to a little girl when she is a little girl herself who was never been loved or shown how to be a mother by her own mother? I was taken aback at Crystal’s weird, dysfunctional relationship with her father Richard. They never communicated. Sure, they would talk, she’d shout demands “I need a new car”, I need new boobs” I need $100, the dope man is here”. His response was always “OK Crystal.” I never would’ve guessed he would do what he did to his daughter and beloved granddaughter, but on further reflection, this situation was a ticking time bomb waiting for someone to explode. Oh, how I wish he had exploded on a tree or just himself, not on my Crystal and Angelica.

Crystal and I really did have a lot in common. She was painfully shy, and awkward in social situations as was I. Most people assumed that we were stuck up snobs but, we would talk about how often we were misjudged by others for being stuck up, cold and distant, when really, deep down, we were just deathly afraid of interacting with people. I’m sure that’s what attracted her to Olive in the first place. Olive and Crystal met at beauty school when they were 17. Olive’s character is the antithesis socially awkward. Olive has always been outgoing, direct, a “friend to all” type of gal who is not afraid to walk into any room with confidence and poise and by nights end have every man in love with her and every girl wanting to be her best friend. Even though Olive is a striking blonde with model looks, legs for miles and a thousand watt smile, females are never “jealous” of her. She has a way of making anyone feel good about themselves. One simple complement to an insecure chick and they are putty in her hands. By nights end they are making appointments to get their nails done together or bring flowers to a recently departed grandmother’s grave. Crystal and I were the polar opposite. We’d enter a social gathering and take refuge in a corner chair and just observe the party like we were watching a movie on a flat screen.

Olive was our common thread for a few years.Crystal and I only hung out in Olive’s presence until that Summer; the Summer where my journey began into the depths of drug addiction and emotional suicide. Once Olive was taken out of the equation, Crystal and I fed into each other’s predispositions and insecurities with love, loyalty, music and drugs. Drugs were not our only bond, but it certainly was a factor.

Oh, how I loved that girl. I can hear her giggle now.. I’m picturing her now, legs crossed, swinging forward, weed pipe in her left hand and giggling so adorably and infectiously. I can’t get her out of my mind. I guess, I never want to. It was very hard to write about her. Even though she’s been gone for 4 years, I’ve never actively thought of her for this long. I didn’t want to ache this way. I just wish we had been on good terms when she left us. It was such a stupid little fight. She never understood the unconditional loyalty I shared with my sister. Crystal, you were always there for me… I’m so sorry I couldn’t communicate to you how much I valued your love and undying loyalty. I know we are OK in the long run. You know I will always love you. Oh Crystal, you sweet, tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time?