I recently became aware of Michelle's passing.I am glad to have scene her some 5yrs earlier.Michelle was a fun person and plenty of fond memories growing up and being neighbors in Fridley.Shes a stand up person from a good family.Fond farewell Michelle.
Your friend
John Labeaux


IF ROSES GROW IN HEAVEN

If roses grow in heaven,
Lord pleae pick a bunch for me,
Place them in my Mother’s arms
and tell her they’re from me.

Tell her I love her and miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold her for awhile.

Because remembering her is easy,
I do it every day,
but there’s an ache within my heart
that will never go away.

My mom wasn't perfect.

She was stubborn and sassy. Sometimes she would pick a fight with you just to watch your blood boil. Then, she would smile, and say, in her unique Michele way, "I loove you" and you had to forgive her.

She didn't cook. This woman burnt frozen pizza more than anyone I have ever met. She didnt even atempt to make dinner unless it was a roast you could throw in the crock pot and forget about it. To this day, I can't replicate it. There was something so delicious about that simple chunk of meat sprinkled with onion soup and neglected for 12 hours.

She hated driving, so when it came time for my drivers ed, there was a lot of grabbing the "oh crap handle". JADE. THE CURB. JADE. THERE IS A PERSON IN THE CROSSWALK A MILE AWAY, DONT HIT THEM. JADE. YOU ARE GOING 30 IN A 45. SLOW DOWN. She always moved her foot as if there was a brake pedal on her side. Let's just say, I fibbed about how many hours I drove to get my permit, because I refused to leave a parking lot with her on the passenger side.

She loved music- but sang most of the lyrics wrong. I will look up a song that I think I know by heart, only to realize I have been singing it wrong my whole life. Thanks, mom.
She could be bossy. Her last two weeks on Earth were filled with orders. During my childhood, I was the one to do the dirtywork, but for the last few weeks, Jamie was the favorite daughter. "Grab me this. Go get me that. Rub my back. Ugh. Where is Jamie? I need Jamie. She doesnt need so many directions."

One morning in the hospital, around 6:30 am or so, I woke up to one of our favorite nurses asking mom if she needed anything. Near the end, she couldn't eat or drink nearly anything, but they did allow her to have ice chips. After the nurse turned back to the computer, I rose off the cruddy pull out chair they had for family. A cheery voice met me. "Good morning, hunny. How about some chips?"

I got bullied in school for being too much of a tom boy. My mom would tell me about the antics her and her guy friends would pull in high school. The trip to the grand cannon was brought up more times than I can count. She encouraged me to be who I was, and to hang out with who I wanted, no matter what the kids at school said. "I never liked girls much, either" she would tell me and laugh.

My mom was definitely not perfect. 

But she was kind. Intelligent. Effortlessly gorgeous. And she loved with all her heart. Something I will always cling to in times of pain is the fact that her last words to my sister and me were "I love you too."

In those final hours, I was devastated that I would never see my mom again. Not on this plane of existence anyway.

But over the last two weeks without her, I have realized that that isn't true. I get to see and hear my mom every day.

When I talk to my gramma, I hear my mom's compassion. When I am around my grandpa, I 
see mom's intellegence and no B.S. attitude.

When I listen to my brother's stories about his teenage shenanigans, I see my mom's mischievous sense of adventure. He has been tamed over the last few years out of necessity and for the good of the public, but he still carries that wild child gene.

And when I look at my sister, I see my mom's strength. And her attitude. Sometimes when she talks, I hear mom's voice. Because of the age difference, Jamie has always been like a second mom. During mom's final hours, Jamie held me and told me she would always be there for me. And I knew then that I was in good hands.

This morning, I woke up and walked to the bathroom. I was going about my buisness when I looked up at my reflection. I could see my mom's forehead. I have her nose and her cheek bones. The glasses I get from my dad, but my irises shift colors like my mom's did. She gifted me her beautiful blonde hair, but I am still waiting for those curls that she told me come to Tiller women as they age.

Most of all though, I would like to think I have mom's spirit. Her light. That something that made everyone that met her love her. I want to carry that with me, so I can be a little slice of mom for my family.

I didnt know how to end this speech. So I thought I would lighten the mood with quotes from Judge Judy, one of mom's idols. I know she would want me to end with some sassy but good advice.

"Don't try to teach a pig to sing. It doesn't work and it annoys the pig. Case dismissed. Good bye. Have a happy life."

I am sorry to hear about your loss. May the hope found at Acts 24:15 bring you comfort during this difficult time. 

To the Family of Michele Addington,
So sorry to learn about the loss of your Dear Loved One, Michele.  Please know that so many people share your grief with you to help you through this difficult time of sorrow.  Please accept my deepest condolences as we await the time when Christ Jesus will awaken all those who have fallen asleep in death; including your Beloved, Michele.
(John 11:41-44)

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She is survived by her 3 Children, Jeff Addington, Jamie (Mike) O'Neel, and Jade Addington; her Parents, James and Dedra Tiller; Siblings, Mike Tiller, Mark (Lori) Tiller, and Misty (Justin) Laney; and Nieces and Nephews; other Family and Friends

OBITUARIO

Michele Marie (Tiller) Addington

26 noviembre, 1962 – 21 marzo, 2018

Gearhart Funeral Home

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