Some journeys are taken with your feet, others with your heart. Ours was both.
On a recent pilgrimage to Granite Island, Carrie, Anna, and I set out with a quiet hope—to heal the wounds left behind by the violent, unresolved loss of our island sister, Melinda. We weren’t seeking answers, exactly. We were seeking connection, meaning, maybe even a sign that her spirit was still walking with us. What unfolded was unexpected, emotional, and deeply moving.
Looking back on the cold case journey for Mel, we never found full closure, but we did experience healing and were able to make meaning from our experiences. True closure isn’t entirely possible until the State of Queensland can recognise, admit, apologise, and—hopefully—offer compensation for the complete lack of professionalism, duty of care, and compassion shown during the investigation, court proceedings, and the handling of highly sensitive and confidential records surrounding Melinda’s murder. What I’ve uncovered is nothing short of appalling conduct by those in positions of power.
Still, I’m okay with remaining steadfast—pushing back against the system, just quietly waiting for all the red tape to be exposed to the right people. After all, it’s been forty-one years—what’s a few more, right?
The walks that Carrie, Anna, and I shared during our island pilgrimage were always deeply meaningful. Found objects became a way to express our deepest thoughts and emotions. Every single time one of us returned from a walk, a story was shared. Often, an object was collected or a photo taken—always holding enormous meaning and somehow connected to Mel, the spirit world, or the energy that surrounded us.
The last time we saw Melinda, she was partying with a group of locals. She was smiling and happy. She wore a black-and-white dress—half black, half white. I was with Mel at Tanya’s place that afternoon, before the New Year’s Eve cabaret near Mala Bay. I remember when Mel asked Tanya if she could borrow the dress for the party. It was a cool dress—all of us island girls admired it. Back then, the yin and yang symbol was popular on t-shirts and in artwork. The idea of balance—positive and negative energy—started to take on real meaning for me during that time.
On one of our walks, Carrie found a half black and half white feather. She and I explained its significance and its connection to Mel’s last night to Anna, who was equally amazed by the synchronicity.
Then, the next day, another half black and half white feather appeared! Definitely a sign. We searched for a third feather for even more confirmation—but never found it. Carrie also found a purple flower and a cone shell.
During our walk in Skipper Creek, I picked up a piece of broken crockery. It was shining through the freshwater, catching my eye as Anna and I sat and talked about the coral hand (from previous blogs).
When I looked closely, the small piece appeared as a matrix of connections—an intricate grid. It had a grey glaze, likely from a dish or plate, who knows how old. But I picked it up because it had shone straight into my eye, and I shared my thoughts with Anna and Carrie. They resonated and understood the connection. The pattern on the ceramic piece was so fine and subtle, it could only be seen clearly when held close.
That infinite pattern was fascinating. It gave me a sense of how small our individual experiences are in the grand scheme of things. This fleeting moment in time—a forty-year-old case—was now coming back into focus. Things need to be made clear, corrected, and understood within the matrix. Our journeys are all intertwined, and some things simply must be made right. Justice needs to be seen and felt throughout the matrix we call life.
Carrie collected a pinch of Skipper Creek sand for her small crystal vial, taking it home with her—a souvenir of meaning to remember our pilgrimage.
Even songs from the 1980s hold meaning for us, like found objects. This one, in particular, has deep significance and connection to Mel—not just the lyrics, but the eerie imagery in the video that links back to the perpetrator:
Naked Eyes “Always something there to remind me”
Not being able to move forward with a clear understanding—for so many years—that’s the wound. This song also holds deep connection to Mel’s murder for me, from that dark time in 1984 when we were trying to come to terms with the horror of such a violent loss.
The healing that can come from a found object, a song, a picture, or a movie is profound. Anything can become the symbol you need to heal. You’ll know it when you find it, see it, feel it, sense it, or hear it. It’s a powerful way of processing and working through pain—no matter how long your journey or search has been.