11/03/2009By Greg Mellen, Staff Writer
Long Beach Press Telegram (California, USA)
LONG BEACH - How do you measure a life well lived and well loved?
In the case of Melody Ross, the effervescent 16-year-old bystander killed after Friday night's Wilson High football game by a still unidentified gunman, we're still learning.
Maybe her life can be measured in the massive outpourings of grief and support at a large makeshift shrine and a school-wide memorial service Monday at Wilson High.
Or maybe it's something more intimate.
Maybe it's found in the almost whispering voice of a mother, who stares at an oversized photo of her smiling child.
"Oh, Melody, I love you so much," she murmured.
As Chantha Ross sat in her family's modest North Long Beach home, almost exactly three days after her daughter's death from a gunshot wound to the upper torso, she was surrounded by a couple of dozen well-wishers, both friends and family.
After three days, Chantha was beginning to be able to talk about her daughter without breaking into paroxysms of anguish.
As Chantha and her husband, Vanareth, talked about the middle child of their three daughters, Chantha could smile at the memories.
The small living room of the house is festooned with flowers, a Wilson High football helmet delivered earlier in the day that is signed by the team and a large collage of photos of Melody propped behind a couch.
As a refugee of the Cambodian genocide, Chantha's English may not be perfect when she's excited, but the emotion is pure.
Asked what kind of child Melody was, Chantha points to the photographs.
"I think you can tell by the pictures," she says, all of which show Melody beaming and mugging for the camera. "I remember she was very pretty, very obey, very smiling, very kind and friendly. You can see her. She's so lovely, lovely, lovely."
Chantha and Vanareth laugh when they recalled their initial difficulty in finding pictures of their daughter.
The reason wasn't because they didn't exist. Rather the family had only recently moved into the house and still was unpacking. And Melody was the one who had packed all the boxes.
That, they said, was their daughter. Always helping, always dutiful.
"This family is real Cambodian, they have traditional Cambodian values," said Chan Hopson, a family friend who stopped by the home Monday night with spinach soup.
Melody was also friendly and respectful, the parents said.
Once you met Melody, you became her friend, they said.
"We always taught her to be respectful of her elders," Vanareth said.
"She'd always see elders and say 'Chum reap suor,"' he said, referring to the traditional Cambodian greeting of respect with palms pressed together and a bow.
But she was also playful. One uncle said Melody always challenged him to arm wrestle and playfully punched him in the chest.
Another uncle said she was a role model to his 7- and 13-year-old sons.
The parents, who survived the Cambodian genocide separately, met in California. They became Christians after escaping from Cambodia and said that was also a pillar of their family. Chantha's father, Che Choeun, once a high ranking monk, is a pastor at the Bethany Cambodian Evangelical Church in Ontario.
The Rosses say they are very strict with their children, but Melody did not rebel.
"I taught her as a lady," Chantha said. "She did anything for me. When she'd clean the house it would be very perfect."
When the parents would prepare to go out for an evening together, they couldn't do so without being first inspected and approved by Melody. They laughed and said she would make them change clothes if they weren't coordinated.
And Melody knew how to get her way when she felt it was important.
Chantha said she didn't allow Melody to attend football games, until that fateful day.
Prior to Friday's homecoming game against crosstown rival Poly, Melody brought a friend over to her house to help make posters for the game, while pleading with her mom to allow her to attend.
"She tricked me," Chantha said with a rueful chuckle. "She said, 'This is very important. I have to cheer.' What could I say?"
Despite the tragedy that ensued, Chantha says she does not fault the school or anyone else.
"In my mind I don't blame. I survived Pol Pot and communists. I have seen a lot of innocent people get killed, but I don't blame. I thank America for the opportunity to start a new life."
It seemed that opportunity would be cashed in by Melody, and still should be by her older sister, Emily, 17, and younger sister, Kimberly, 6.
It seemed there was so much ahead for Melody. She would joke with her parents that she was going to Harvard but would "settle" for USC.
They had looked forward to one day taking her to Cambodia to see the parents' homeland and tour Angkor Wat. Melody was scheduled to take a trip to Australia.
It always seemed there was time, and suddenly there wasn't.
"I have a little regret we didn't have more time for her," said Vanareth.
But the parents both worked 10 and 12 hours a day, six days a week to make a better life for their children.
"I should have spent more time," Vanareth said.
In the aftermath of Melody's death, however, the parents are finding out that the time was well spent, the lessons well learned.
If anything, the outpouring of love and support for their daughter has grown rather than waned.
The makeshift memorial for Melody gets bigger by the day.
On Saturday morning, the first mourner, Melody's cousin Han Yin, placed a bouquet of flowers against a tree amid scattered bits of yellow police tape.
The memorial was moved next to the crosswalk on Ximeno Avenue where Melody was struck and has grown into a jungle of flowers, candles, stuffed toys and balloons, filled with expressions of grief and love.
A classmate, Dylan Vassberg, created a page in Melody's honor on Facebook and by Tuesday 2,600 people had signed on as members.
One of Melody's closest friends, Tori Rowles, who was with her when the shooting occurred, wrote a heartfelt letter with photos to her friend that was posted on lbreport.com.
"You honestly don't know how many people love you. I know you would have been so excited to see how many people came for you and left flowers and all sorts of goodies at your memorial, and from now on I will do everything for the both of us. I will finish what we started together Melody. Don't you worry!" Rowles wrote.
Exactly 72 hours after the shooting, five news vans were arrayed about the Ross memorial.
Melody's parents say they were overwhelmed by the reception of the students who came Monday for a memorial and balloon release at the school. And even days after the shooting, the house was filled with friends and family offering support, cooking food and providing a sense of community.
On Monday night, a contingent of well-wishers from the Cambodian Coordinating Council came to the Ross home to offer condolences and support.
Reflecting on the outpouring, Chantha said she was stunned and proud at how Melody had exemplified her upbringing and touched people in ways the family never would have known but for this tragic event.
"Today I feel so much that my daughter did more than I tell her," Chantha said. "Thousands and thousands of students came out, and they all say they love Melody."
greg.mellen@presstelegram.com, 562-499-1291
In the case of Melody Ross, the effervescent 16-year-old bystander killed after Friday night's Wilson High football game by a still unidentified gunman, we're still learning.
Maybe her life can be measured in the massive outpourings of grief and support at a large makeshift shrine and a school-wide memorial service Monday at Wilson High.
Or maybe it's something more intimate.
Maybe it's found in the almost whispering voice of a mother, who stares at an oversized photo of her smiling child.
"Oh, Melody, I love you so much," she murmured.
As Chantha Ross sat in her family's modest North Long Beach home, almost exactly three days after her daughter's death from a gunshot wound to the upper torso, she was surrounded by a couple of dozen well-wishers, both friends and family.
After three days, Chantha was beginning to be able to talk about her daughter without breaking into paroxysms of anguish.
As Chantha and her husband, Vanareth, talked about the middle child of their three daughters, Chantha could smile at the memories.
The small living room of the house is festooned with flowers, a Wilson High football helmet delivered earlier in the day that is signed by the team and a large collage of photos of Melody propped behind a couch.
As a refugee of the Cambodian genocide, Chantha's English may not be perfect when she's excited, but the emotion is pure.
Asked what kind of child Melody was, Chantha points to the photographs.
"I think you can tell by the pictures," she says, all of which show Melody beaming and mugging for the camera. "I remember she was very pretty, very obey, very smiling, very kind and friendly. You can see her. She's so lovely, lovely, lovely."
Chantha and Vanareth laugh when they recalled their initial difficulty in finding pictures of their daughter.
The reason wasn't because they didn't exist. Rather the family had only recently moved into the house and still was unpacking. And Melody was the one who had packed all the boxes.
That, they said, was their daughter. Always helping, always dutiful.
"This family is real Cambodian, they have traditional Cambodian values," said Chan Hopson, a family friend who stopped by the home Monday night with spinach soup.
Melody was also friendly and respectful, the parents said.
Once you met Melody, you became her friend, they said.
"We always taught her to be respectful of her elders," Vanareth said.
"She'd always see elders and say 'Chum reap suor,"' he said, referring to the traditional Cambodian greeting of respect with palms pressed together and a bow.
But she was also playful. One uncle said Melody always challenged him to arm wrestle and playfully punched him in the chest.
Another uncle said she was a role model to his 7- and 13-year-old sons.
The parents, who survived the Cambodian genocide separately, met in California. They became Christians after escaping from Cambodia and said that was also a pillar of their family. Chantha's father, Che Choeun, once a high ranking monk, is a pastor at the Bethany Cambodian Evangelical Church in Ontario.
The Rosses say they are very strict with their children, but Melody did not rebel.
"I taught her as a lady," Chantha said. "She did anything for me. When she'd clean the house it would be very perfect."
When the parents would prepare to go out for an evening together, they couldn't do so without being first inspected and approved by Melody. They laughed and said she would make them change clothes if they weren't coordinated.
And Melody knew how to get her way when she felt it was important.
Chantha said she didn't allow Melody to attend football games, until that fateful day.
Prior to Friday's homecoming game against crosstown rival Poly, Melody brought a friend over to her house to help make posters for the game, while pleading with her mom to allow her to attend.
"She tricked me," Chantha said with a rueful chuckle. "She said, 'This is very important. I have to cheer.' What could I say?"
Despite the tragedy that ensued, Chantha says she does not fault the school or anyone else.
"In my mind I don't blame. I survived Pol Pot and communists. I have seen a lot of innocent people get killed, but I don't blame. I thank America for the opportunity to start a new life."
It seemed that opportunity would be cashed in by Melody, and still should be by her older sister, Emily, 17, and younger sister, Kimberly, 6.
It seemed there was so much ahead for Melody. She would joke with her parents that she was going to Harvard but would "settle" for USC.
They had looked forward to one day taking her to Cambodia to see the parents' homeland and tour Angkor Wat. Melody was scheduled to take a trip to Australia.
It always seemed there was time, and suddenly there wasn't.
"I have a little regret we didn't have more time for her," said Vanareth.
But the parents both worked 10 and 12 hours a day, six days a week to make a better life for their children.
"I should have spent more time," Vanareth said.
In the aftermath of Melody's death, however, the parents are finding out that the time was well spent, the lessons well learned.
If anything, the outpouring of love and support for their daughter has grown rather than waned.
The makeshift memorial for Melody gets bigger by the day.
On Saturday morning, the first mourner, Melody's cousin Han Yin, placed a bouquet of flowers against a tree amid scattered bits of yellow police tape.
The memorial was moved next to the crosswalk on Ximeno Avenue where Melody was struck and has grown into a jungle of flowers, candles, stuffed toys and balloons, filled with expressions of grief and love.
A classmate, Dylan Vassberg, created a page in Melody's honor on Facebook and by Tuesday 2,600 people had signed on as members.
One of Melody's closest friends, Tori Rowles, who was with her when the shooting occurred, wrote a heartfelt letter with photos to her friend that was posted on lbreport.com.
"You honestly don't know how many people love you. I know you would have been so excited to see how many people came for you and left flowers and all sorts of goodies at your memorial, and from now on I will do everything for the both of us. I will finish what we started together Melody. Don't you worry!" Rowles wrote.
Exactly 72 hours after the shooting, five news vans were arrayed about the Ross memorial.
Melody's parents say they were overwhelmed by the reception of the students who came Monday for a memorial and balloon release at the school. And even days after the shooting, the house was filled with friends and family offering support, cooking food and providing a sense of community.
On Monday night, a contingent of well-wishers from the Cambodian Coordinating Council came to the Ross home to offer condolences and support.
Reflecting on the outpouring, Chantha said she was stunned and proud at how Melody had exemplified her upbringing and touched people in ways the family never would have known but for this tragic event.
"Today I feel so much that my daughter did more than I tell her," Chantha said. "Thousands and thousands of students came out, and they all say they love Melody."
greg.mellen@presstelegram.com, 562-499-1291
2 comments:
It was in US.
RIP MELODY ROSS. GONE TOO SOON
Post a Comment