Celebrating what they stood for

Shelly Engelhardt moved into her Hoffman Estates home from Chicago at age 16.

That single-family ranch home is filled with wonderful memories of two generations of her family, and Engelhardt said Friday she won't let the heartbreaking events of last month drive her away.

Engelhardt, 52, admits to waves of mourning while splitting her time at her own home and staying with the neighbors next door, but she's determined to get her home in order and bring her family back together.

Dressed in purple, her favorite hue, she wears a small scar on her left cheek, a reminder of the intubation tube she needed after she suffered multiple stab wounds and a collapsed lung from a brutal attack April 18 at her home.

Shelly Engelhardt survived, but her husband, youngest daughter and mother all were murdered.

Despite missing them "every single day, every single minute," she speaks as a paradigm of composure. She wears two rubber bracelets that memorialize her absent daughter and husband; she talks of moving forward and keeping busy.

In a conversation late Friday afternoon, there are no outward signs of anger. Shelly is relying on her family values to survive the unimaginable loss.

"My mother and my husband were rock solid - they knew their faith, they knew their values," Engelhardt said. "They knew what their family stood for."

But then, Alan Engelhardt, 57, and Marlene Gacek, 73, had years to develop those values. Laura, the Engelhardts' daughter, never attended her prom or college.

The 18-year-old would have graduated Sunday from Conant High School, also her mother's alma mater.

Instead, Laura's seat inside the Sears Centre will be littered with rose petals, and Shelly plans on accepting her daughter's diploma on her behalf.

She refuses to hide from her emotions, preferring to show up to graduation and honor her youngest child.

"I just can't turn away and say I'm sad; I can't handle that, I can't do that," Engelhardt said.

"This is how I'm going forward. I have to respect, I have to celebrate what my family stood for, not how they died."

The memories come thick and fast - like when Shelly and Alan met while working together at a pharmaceutical company. Or of her children practicing wrestling moves in the living room.

Daily prayer has long been part of Engelhardt's life, and she says it is now helping her cope with her losses.

"I learned that a long time ago," she said. "It's not something that I just picked up from a counselor or psychiatrist recently."

Since the tragic day, Engelhardt said she's even noticed a change in herself, what she calls a sense of calm. She does have days when bill collectors won't stop calling - she lost her job in January.

She's eager to work again. But she said she's not close to panicking.

Her injuries have more or less healed. She's not taking any pain medication, but her knees still hurt from time to time. She jokes that the mark from the intubation tube makes her look like Cruella de Vil.

Chemicals from the cleanup crews have scarred the home, which will undergo renovation, much of it paid for by donations. Many belongings also have been removed, but new furniture is being delivered today.

That has left Engelhardt's remaining family displaced and scattered. Son Jeff has returned to Southern Illinois University. He's been away from school since the slayings and said Friday that he's got to do "a month's worth of work in two weeks."

Amanda, 23, is with her baby daughter, Stelliah, living elsewhere with another family member. Engelhardt says she and Amanda have been in constant contact, but she prefers not to speak for her daughter.

"We have all our paces and our own way of going through things," Engelhardt said. "That is her personal information; if she wanted to share it with folks, then she would, and I respect her privacy, and that's how she wants it to be."

Engelhardt remains uncomfortable talking about 20-year-old D'Andre Howard, Stelliah's father, who has been charged with the three murders. His attorneys appear to be preparing to use Howard's mental fitness as a defense. He's been a ward of the state since he was 5 and has been in and out of multiple residential facilities.

Authorities have instructed Engelhardt not to speak publicly about what happened that night, citing an ongoing investigation.

Engelhardt said she doesn't recall much of the attacks, anyway. After paramedics rushed her to the hospital, she lay sedated and had trouble trying to piece together the events of the night.

She doesn't even remember what she said when she woke up and saw her son.

"All I know is I was happy to be there and happy to see him," she said.

But Engelhardt does recall what Laura did that night, throwing herself in harm's way, managing to grab the knife from Howard, if briefly.

"She truly is my hero, and not for what happened - I mean, yes for what happened - but also for the person that she is, she has touched so many people. I'm in awe of how many people were touched by her," her mother said.

Engelhardt said she has nothing to say to Howard right now but added an opportunity may come "on its own time."

"And if I did have something to say, I'd probably say it to him," she said. "I'm not going to put it in the paper; I don't think it serves any purpose there."

But for Alan, Marlene and Laura, Shelly Engelhardt has a very simple message:

"It's what I say to all of them every day," she said, "I want their light and their energy to shine through me."

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