Lauren McCluskey

 Lauren came to me more than once, patiently waiting for me to acknowledge her. The first time she appeared to me I was in no mood to write the story of another deceased person. I was sorely out of alignment, dealing with a lifestyle that currently leaves me stressed out and drained more often than not. Trust me, you have to be in a certain space emotionally to take on the task of communicating with the dead. You want to tell their story, but to do so, you know you are going to take on their emotions and the burden of the trauma associated with them. At least, that's they way I react to delving into any life lived and lost, that leaves behind scars the world has to heal. It's particularly heavy energy you deal with when the person was murdered well before they wanted to leave the world.

Lauren was murdered by a man named Melvin Rowland, she met one month prior to her death in October 2018. He was a bouncer at a nightclub she had attended with a friend one night. The romance bloomed rapidly, and Melvin became possessive and abusive early on. This scared Lauren, and she tried to end things with him. Melvin became angry and scary, stalking her on her school Campus. Lauren had no choice but to ask the police to intervene. She felt threatened and afraid of this big man, who she discovered wasn't who he had initially told her he was. He was an entire decade older than he said he was, had a different name then he'd given her, and a record that included child rape in New York. Lauren was in over her head, being twenty years younger and naive to the kinds of people one can meet in their journey's away from the safety of their nests.

The second time Lauren appeared to me, while I was washing my face and brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. I was much more receptive to listening to her story. The truth is I think I have avoided paying too much attention to her case, because for me, it's eerily similar to my own. I couldn't even get myself to want to read about her death, until last night. Sure, being a Utahn myself, I knew the basic details, but as I continued my research on her case, I realized my gut feelings were accurate. This case was similar to mine in more ways than one. Lauren and I, though from completely different walks of life, shared some similarities as people as well, but I won't get into all of that right now. I'm more anxious to write about my afterlife interactions with Lauren, and focus on her story, not my own.

Listening to Lauren plead with the police to do something about her case, hearing the helpless and hopeless tone of her voice, killed me. It seemed clear to me that she felt as if the police weren't taking her as seriously as she had hoped. After all, how many women file complaints against their abuser's everyday, only to have nothing occur? I think it must have been at this point that the loss of the life she once knew begin to really set in. There is a moment for us all, isn't there? I'm sad that the last moments of her life had to feel pretty lonely, and maybe a little like it was her against the world. Those moments are life changing. They leave imprints behind that some of us never fully heal. We just carry the wounds with us for the rest of our lives. Lauren's case has sparked a passion in me that senses a purpose in my own survival. 

The message Lauren left me with probably isn't one her family would want to hear. Lauren hasn't left her attachment to her life as Lauren behind. She is struggling to want to start a new life in a different body without the family she knows. Lauren is someone who deeply loved her life. They always have the hardest time accepting the life they didn't get to live. She was in no way, shape, or form, even a little bit ready to be done with her life as Lauren McCluskey. 

In particular she has clung to the loss of the opportunity to be a mother. She wanted to be a mother, a wife ... she wanted the American Dream. She was the American Dream. A beautiful young woman, who's life revolved around her athletic pursuits. A go getter, an achiever, an all around versatile and lovely human being, as those close to her would agree. It is harder to hear a deceased person pine away for the life they lost, for sure, than it is to meet a spirit who is eager to leave their body and this life behind. I'm angry with them and for them. Especially when it's a young woman who had her whole life ahead of her. It's why I want to be a voice for them, because unlike them I survived. 

If you could meet Lauren yourself, you would fall in love with her. She's easy to love, coming off as humble, down to Earth, and likeable. There is nothing dark or sinister, or bad in nature, about her. In no way did she deserve the wrath of someone who was the complete opposite of her. This is the thing, I think, that makes so many of sick to our stomachs when we think of the victim's in cases like these. They're usually beautiful souls who simply had the bad luck of meeting those who had long lost their connection to the good within. It's this lack of connection that allows for them to murder, rape, torture, those who seem to have what they maybe never did.

Lauren sat on my bed next to me, as I whispered in the dark, answering her questions as best as I could, She asked if there was any way she could come back to her family, be born into it again. Or if she could ever be a mother in another life. I assured her that of course, she can do anything she wants. She's the almighty soul and operator of her experiences down here. She seems to be considering staying in Heaven until her parents pass on, and then deciding to be born again. As she's not sure her brother will have children of his own. 

Gabby Petito, Mackenzie Lueck, and Lauren McCluskey, these names aren't just headliners. These aren't just horror stories that fade into the background as the years pass, for some. These are young women who had all the potential in the world, who's lights were put out by monsters. Monsters are men who feel entitled to a woman's life, or to take it. If they don't get their way, they snap. These men aren't raised by a generation of men who hold them responsible for being bratty, but rather pat them on the back for it. They're men, it's they're world. It's theirs for the taking, and nothing and nobody should be able to get in the way of that. 

I have always wondered what could have I done with my life had it not been cut short in it's own way all those years ago? I know there is no going back. There's no heading off to California to model or act, or sing. Those days are gone for me. But I also realize the potential born within the loss of a life that ultimately would have had a lot less personal meaning to me. Perhaps I wasn't born to be the fire, but to be the fire starter. 

For so many years I thought I had failed at life, that I had let myself down, but now I realize that there was no chasing dreams when I couldn't even feed myself or tie my shoes. I also look at these cases and I think, I could be in Hollywood, dressed in silk, reaping the rewards for a portrayal of a life that doesn't even exist. Or I could be here, in Utah, growing the seeds that will lead me to a life that will have more meaning than anything else I could have done, or would have done, given the chance. I have to be the voice for those who don't have one. And Lauren, she doesn't mind being the poster child for change in a world that let her down, because it doesn't value women the way it values men.

It can never be in vain if there is a purpose born in the ashes of a life lost. Lauren showed me an image of herself, focusing on her wrist. There was a bracelet she used to wear with the words, "LIVE STRONG" printed on it. She reminded me in that moment to be the woman I have been allowed to become, despite tremendous odds being stacked high against me. I can't imagine the life she would have gone on to live, with a spirit like that. 

Thank you, Lauren, for sharing a moment of your time with me.