‘Everyone loves Michelle’: Sacramento woman remembers life of sister who died of COVID
Michelle Glipa, a Sacramento resident, died of COVID-19 in November. This story was written from interviews conducted with her twin sister, Melissa Clark, over several days, which have been edited for length and clarity.
I keep thinking she’s going to text me, that she just hasn’t returned my texts.
To close her social media accounts I have to have access to her phone, and some people have forgotten to take her off their group chats. I have to tell them, “You know, her number is still in this group chat.” You just think she’s going to respond.
My sister’s symptoms started first, and then me next. We thought it was a head cold. The night before she passed, well, her favorite thing is soccer, so we were watching the San Jose Earthquakes in the playoffs, yelling at the TV like we normally do.
Some people live life for religion. I would say that soccer was her religion. She played, she coached, she had season tickets to the Sac Republic, she followed the Euro league, MLS, the men’s and women’s national team. She’s been coaching soccer since she was 17.
Her first job was at Elk Grove High School, and she coached all the way up until COVID-19. Her second year of coaching, the Elk Grove women’s team made it all the way to the championship. Even in the pandemic, she tried to go to a Sac Republic game but couldn’t get tickets.
But she’s a total fashionista, knew whatever the latest trends were. I don’t know how many shoes she had, she probably bought a shoe for every dress. My daughters were only allowed to wear makeup at Aunt Shelly’s house. She would get these monthly packages of makeup, and anything she didn’t like she’d put them out on the table in a free-for-all, and they would look like clowns.
Oh, and she was the best at hair. She did my hair at senior ball, our friend’s daughter’s hair for prom, another person’s for homecoming. She did the best braids. My daughter does competitive softball, and she always tells me I don’t do her hair good enough. My sister would pull so tight it would hurt, but it would stay all day.
Michelle would try any hair color, like blues and pinks and purples. Her hairdresser had bought all this purple hair dye, but she didn’t know what to do with it after she passed. Michelle was her only client that had purple in her hair. She asked if she could dye my hair and my daughters’. I told her I wouldn’t, but she’ll do my daughters and my aunt and one of my cousin’s for free.
And she loved her job at the California Department of Education. Anytime our friends or teachers would complain about state testing she’d laugh because that’s what her unit would handle. One time they were trying to regulate the test and found students were posting questions online, so she had to go on Facebook to track down the students and notify the school. She said, “I don’t get paid enough to do this!”
I reached out to her coworkers, and they asked how many people could talk at the ceremony. I said, “Five to seven, but I don’t think anyone’s going to stop you.” I tried to explain that I can’t have 30 people talk, but I totally understand. Everyone loves Michelle.
We joked she was basically the “27 Dresses” girl. I stopped counting after 10 weddings where she was actually a bridesmaid. In at least two or three she was the maid of honor. She has this group of girl friends, they call themselves the “BETCHES.” She was so loyal to them. She was kind of like this glue, the soccer family, the “BETCHES.” She was always available when people needed her.
It’s going to be a Celebration of Life, not a funeral. We’re encouraging soccer attire and jerseys, or aloha attire. People need their closure to start the healing process. Even sending the flier was like ripping a Band-Aid off, like an open wound and rubbing salt on it.
Birthdays will never be the same. When a sibling passes, when a twin passes, people don’t understand the connection. My husband never wants to play Charades. She’d draw a line and a star and I’d instantly say, “American flag.” I shared a room with her growing up before I moved out for college. But you don’t just share a room, you share a life.
The night that she passed, there are feelings and things that I can’t describe. I had chest pain, and I asked my husband if he thought it was COVID-19. Looking back on it, I think it was her literally saying she was leaving this world and I just couldn’t figure it out then.
When we turned 40 we were supposed to do a Europe trip, but our dad got sick and then passed away. So we decided to postpone our trip, but our new reservation was for March 21, 2020. The girls are still planning to go to Europe. I think it’s a great idea, but I just can’t do this now. I know it’s probably good for me. I haven’t taken her off the reservation. I just don’t have the strength to call the company.