“More Than a Tragedy: Marianna’s Relentless Love and the Battle for Connection”

Grief has a way of distorting time. Some days, it feels like my sister, Marianna Nicole Christian,(known as Nikki to me) was just here—her laughter bouncing through the house, her stubborn, beautiful spirit filling every room she entered. Other days, the weight of her absence feels crushing. On July 19, 2025, Nikki went missing. For ten agonizing days, our family lived in a blur of searching, praying, and clinging to hope. Then, on July 29th at 5:11 PM, the police found her remains in a park, just a mile from her home. It’s a wound that will never fully heal. But Nikki’s story will never be defined by how it ended. She wasn’t just a name in a case file. She was my sister—not by birth, but by a bond forged through shared brokenness and relentless love.

Nikki came into our family after a failed adoption placement in the States. Like me, her life began in a Romanian orphanage. Life had dealt us both deep wounds—abandonment, rejection, and the scars of early trauma. But Nikki refused to let those wounds harden her. Where my trauma taught me to be cautious, Marianna lived with an open heart. She didn’t let fear dictate how she loved. And that was her greatest gift.

For me, Reactive Attachment Disorder wasn’t about wanting to be alone. I desperately wanted connection. I craved relationship. But trusting people—that terrified me. I lived with the constant fear that if I let someone close, they would leave. So I clung too tightly, became overbearing in my pursuit of closeness, suffocating relationships out of fear they’d slip away. I wasn’t trying to push people away—I was trying to hold on too hard. But in the end, the fear of being left would sabotage the very connection I longed for.

Nikki saw through all of that. She never got overwhelmed by my intensity. She never judged my fear or tried to fix me. Instead, she stayed. She matched my relentless pursuit with her own, but hers was rooted in patience and grace. She had an incredible way of making you feel safe even when you were terrified of trusting. She didn’t force connection. She built it with me, brick by brick, through her steady presence and stubborn love.

Her love for Christ wasn’t loud or performative—it was lived out in the small, powerful ways she loved people. Nikki had a heart that mirrored Jesus in how she noticed the overlooked, stood beside the rejected, and pursued those who were afraid to trust. She knew firsthand what it felt like to be unwanted, but she never let that make her bitter. Instead, she turned her own pain into compassion. Whether it was defending the kid getting bullied at school, or sitting with me in silence when I was shutting down, Nikki loved in a way that reflected the heart of Christ.

The ten days Nikki was missing were the darkest days of my life. The silence was suffocating. But in that darkness, stories of her kindness began pouring in from people all over our Wichita community. Friends, neighbors, teachers—even people who only met her briefly—reached out to share how Nikki had made them feel seen, valued, and loved. That’s who she was. She didn’t just love people when it was convenient. She sought them out when they were hardest to love.

Losing her has been a devastating blow. But Nikki’s life continues to teach me how to fight. She showed me that connection is worth the risk, even when trust feels terrifying. She taught me that love isn’t about demanding closeness, but about offering grace and presence. Even now, as I wrestle with my own struggles with RAD, I hear her voice reminding me, “You don’t have to beg to be loved. You are already loved.”

Nikki’s story should never be reduced to a tragedy. She lived boldly, loved fiercely, and reflected Christ in how she embraced people’s messiness. She didn’t just survive abandonment—she overcame it by choosing to love with her whole heart. And that’s the legacy I want the world to remember.

For years, RAD told me I wasn’t worthy of connection. Marianna refused to let me believe that lie. She fought for me in ways I didn’t know how to fight for myself. And now, I carry her with me. In every moment I choose to trust, in every relationship where I fight through fear to stay present, I am honoring her life and the Savior she loved so deeply.

Marianna Nicole Christian lived loud, loved hard, and made it her mission to reflect the relentless love of Jesus. That’s the story I’ll keep telling. That’s the fight I’ll keep living.

I love you sis