The older I get, the more my childhood feels like a dream. It really was in a galaxy, far, far away, otherwise known as Texas.
Attending All Saints School in Lubbock, I went to school each morning from third through sixth grade wearing a white shirt with a Peter Pan collar, a blue and white checkered jumper, a red sweater, white socks and tennis shoes. For the church service each morning (I've written about this before), the girls donned a red beret.
Every other kid had started at the school in either Kindergarten or first grade, so coming in at the beginning of third grade was awkward in such a small school (catching up in French alone?) Everyone had their friend groups already established, and I wasn't exactly outgoing. There was a group of four girls that I wanted to be friends with. Each morning, they sat around a round wooden table (with a map of Texas lacquered across the surface), and only four people were allowed to sit at the table. Having arrived several mornings too late and having to sit somewhere else, I started getting to school early so that I could have one of the four seats.
It must have been in fourth grade that a new girl moved in. Her name was Lisa Vengroff, and she definitely didn't look or act like the rest of us Texan girls. Her parents were divorced, and her father was remarried, so she did the whole separate living situation. She was short with thick curly brown hair, and she was a *take a deep breath* Jew. Yes, there at the Episcopal school sat a Jew...and a Mormon.
She was extremely extroverted and in no time, we were best friends. In fact, when I think back to my childhood, I can remember four different names of girls and she is one of them (Stephanie Bennett, Jorond Casler, and Catherine Jensen being the other three). She was athletic and constantly talking about soccer. I do believe her favorite part of playing soccer was getting the full-size Snickers bar before a game. She actually broke her leg at some point playing soccer and ended up on crutches for a long while. So while she would get picked first for dodgeball, I would sit at the end of the lineup, praying that the bell would ring before my turn came along. But shoot we were smart. We were the smartest in our classes, and I will admit that she frequently outscored me. And probably the best part is that she called me Reesy (or Reese), my childhood nickname.
We had serious discussions about religion. She would tell me how Jews viewed Jesus, and it was her convincing arguments that led to me walking into Lincoln National Forest in Ruidoso, New Mexico (alone I might add!), kneeling down and begging Heavenly Father to appear to me like he appeared to Joseph Smith to tell me my church was true...and that Jesus was the Savior of the world. That didn't happen, and I realized that I would need to gain a testimony of Him on my own. But I remember going to her Bat Mitzvah, and to this day, I can recite the beginning of a Jewish prayer.
At the end of sixth grade, she told me that she was moving to Dakar, Senegal with her father and his wife. I realize now that he was in the state department. I was moving onto a new junior high (minus uniforms) so I don't think I realized exactly how much her absence would impact me. She left for Senegal, and I left for Michigan a year later, but we continued writing to each other. It was in ninth grade that her family (or at least she) returned to the United States, and she came and visited me for a week in Michigan. After that, with all the chaos that was swirling around me (and come to find out, she was having troubles as well), we lost touch.
Through the years, I have tried to find her. Several years ago, I found an obituary that listed a Lisa Vengroff who had died in 1996 in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Knowing Ypsi in 1996 (John's family was still living there), I imagined that woman was African-American, and surely it couldn't be my Lisa because she was literally within a stone's throw of my mom's house.
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She wrote me about eight pages, and everything just shines with her bright personality. In the letter, she mentioned that she had a new baby sister, Marriah. Well, that was yet another clue to finding her, and sure enough, I found Marriah (yes, with two "r"s) Vengroff on FB. I sent her a message through Messenger, asking for her sister's contact information.
Obviously, she isn't on FB a lot, because it took a month or two for her to respond. This is what she said:
Hi Larisa, It is so nice of you to reach out. I would absolutely love to see that letter. I am really sorry to have to tell you this over Facebook messenger but Lisa passed away in 1996. She struggled with mental illness for many years and she took her own life. I am so sorry that i don't have better news to share with you about her. If you wouldn't mind scanning that letter and sending it to me it would mean a lot. Also if you have any pictures or memories to share i know my Family would love to hear them / see them.
Thanks again for reaching out. It means so much.
I found the obituary again and sure enough, the sister listed was Marriah. It just broke my heart.
LISA MALAIKA VENGROFF
VENGROFF. Lisa Malaika Vengroff, 25, of Ypsilanti, MI, died at her home, Monday (April 29, 1996). She was born Aug. 2, 1970 in Syracuse, NY, a daughter of Richard and Linda (Krasilovsky) Vengroff. She had been an Ann Arbor area resident for the past four years. Lisa was a graduate of Eastern Michigan University, Summa Cum Laude, in 1994 with a dual major in Psychology and Philosophy. She had done volunteer work at Ozone House and had been employed at the Jewish Community Center. Currently, Lisa was employed in the area Public Opinion Research. Survivors include her mother, Linda Vengroff of Ann Arbor; her father and step- mother, Richard and Cynthia Vengroff of Storrs; two brothers, Darren (Hilary) Vengroff and Babacar Ndao (Vengroff); a sister, Marriah Vengroff; grandparents, Milton and Leonora Krasilovsky of Lauderhill, FL and Ned and Alice Vengroff of Palm Springs, CA and several aunts, uncles and cousins. A Memorial Service will be held at the Muehlig Funeral Chapel, Thursday, May 2 at 3 p.m. with the Rev. Jeffrey Crane officiating. In lieu of flowers, tributes may be made to the Alliance for the Mentally Ill of Washtenaw County or the SOS Community Crisis Center.
This is what I said in return:
Hi Marriah,
Goodness, I hardly know what to say. I looked for her a couple of years ago, and an obituary popped up online. I didn't believe it was her because she was living just a stone's throw from where I was in Michigan, and I didn't know how we couldn't have connected again. But once I found your name, I looked for that obituary again and saw that you were listed as her sister.
Over the past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about her and what I can share with you and your family. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures, and I don't have very many specific memories, but let me share what I have remembered.
I was living in a house of horrors in Lubbock. My mother was a physician and was rarely home, but when she was, she wouldn't speak to me or have anything to do with me for weeks at a time for no specific reason. She had married my stepfather who was sexually abusive for over ten years until I finally turned him into the police at age 16. I had no siblings. The only saving grace in my life was my friends at school, and Lisa was my very best friend. I can hardly remember the full names of anyone from All Saints School in Lubbock, but I will never forget Lisa. It's so crazy to think about now, but I am a Mormon, and she was a Jew, and there we were at an Episcopal School, reciting prayers every morning that meant nothing to us! 
Really, I have to laugh about it now! And I don't know if we could've been more different--she was athletic and always talking about soccer, and I was a musician who silently prayed that the dodgeball lineup would never get to me at the end of the line before the bell rang And yet, she was ALWAYS there for me. We were both smart and motivated and academically competitive with each other, but we thrived on that (to be truthful, I think she was the only one who could get better grades than me). We would have serious discussions as 11-year-olds about Jesus Christ. Who else does that? And if I'm remembering correctly, I went to her Bat Mitzvah. She would talk to me about how she got to eat a full-size Snickers bar before soccer games. I remember feeling so sad when I found out she was moving to Senegal, but I was so happy when she came to visit me in Michigan.
The saddest part about all of this for me is that she was THERE for me during a very dark time in my life, but I wasn't there for her when she was struggling. When I look back at my horrific childhood, she stands as a light during that time. Her curly hair. Her crazy smile. Her infectious laugh. I wish I could've been there to help her. To be with her. To let her know that I valued her more than just about anyone from my childhood.
I'm sorry I don't have more specific memories, but I think it's a consequence of trying to forget a lot of what happened to me when I was young. I wish we had stayed in contact, but I was in survival mode for most of my teenage years. I am more than happy to send you the letter--it's about eight pages long, and it just REEKS of her and of our friendship 
. Give me an address, and I'll put it in the mail.
I send all of my love to you and your family. I lost my father when I was very young, and I've always felt death is the biggest cheat. It's like God didn't quite work out that part of life very well for those who are left behind. Knowing Lisa is gone is like losing a piece of beauty that can never be reclaimed. It just breaks my heart. I do believe in life after death though, and I hope to see her someday on the other side.
Much love,
Larisa
I will indeed send her letter off, so I wanted to make sure she stayed in my memory and in the memories of my children by eulogizing her on this blog. She deserves it.
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