Infectious laughter, a bright light that addiction stole from us, gone too soon.
Sharon lit up every room she entered. She was a vibrant force in life—funny, bubbly, and unforgettable. Sharon’s niece, Shelly, remembers Sharon’s “radiant red hair, bright red lipstick, big, bold black eyelashes, and silly sense of humor.”
Her children, Jason, Brandy, and Brock, remember her as a mother who made things fun, like sneaking into the drive-in movie theater in the trunk, cruising down Washington Boulevard with a car packed full of kids, or convincing the staff at a haunted house, they were a group of mental health patients in order to, gain entry after they closed. “She used to rock me on her lap, even into adulthood,” Brandy recalls. Jason recounts her vivacious personality, her “top notch” sense of humor and great laugh that shook her entire body.
Growing up, Sharon was a head cheerleader at Ogden High School and a straight-A student. Her brother Dan remembers watching her cheerleading squad practice in their backyard and how, as an older sibling, she helped care for him while their mother was in nursing school—even taking him on dates with her. Dan fondly recalls being given $10 and permission to explore on his own at Lagoon amusement park while Sharon and her boyfriend did their own thing at the park, later meeting up at the front gate. Quite an adventure for a 10-year-old! “She was young, smart, happy, and full of life,” he said. “The good old days were always fun with her around.”
Sharon earned her R.N. degree at Weber State College and began her career in healthcare, working at mental health hospitals, emergency rooms, and skilled nursing facilities with older adults. “Nursing was her career, and it was also where her 20-year journey with addiction began,” Dan stated.
Outside of work, Sharon’s passions included singing—especially Linda Ronstadt and Whitney Houston songs—shopping, refurbishing furniture, and all you can eat buffets. Not a cook, Sharon used her oven for storage and once melted a blender she forgot was inside.
Sharon’s struggles with addiction gradually changed her. Dan recalls coming home from the Navy after six years and finding a completely different Sharon. “A lot can change in six years,” he said. The family saw the vibrant, joyful woman they loved become someone they barely recognized—less motivated, often unhappy, and unable to escape her disease. For the family, the hardest part was realizing that love alone couldn’t save Sharon.
Brandy, now the same age her mother was when she passed, says, “my mother’s disease influenced every one of my relationships.” She reflects on how her mom looked forward to time with her grandkids, and the sadness she feels that her kids cannot experience that relationship. “I feel like a failure because I couldn’t save her,” Brandy said.
In Sharon’s obituary, in 1998, the family stated that she died of natural causes, but today they might make a different choice. Others in the family have addictive tendencies, and some have passed from their substance use. Brandy said, “It’s always a battle fighting that, but I also feel that you can use it as fuel to show that you don’t want this to happen to your own kids.” Sharon’s family appreciates the opportunity to candidly discuss substance use disorder in hopes of helping others do the same. “No one should have to suffer in silence, fearful of judgement,” Brandy stated.
Sharon’s niece, Michelle Harris, along with her brother, Dan, and Sharon’s children, provided the information for this narrative.
March 5, 1951-July 7, 1998-Age 47
Portrait Artist: Clayton Conner
Narrative Writer: Barbara Francois
