Manistique volleyball senior Kamry Flodin makes her way to the floor through a human tunnel before a match against Escanaba on Oct. 31 in the Bonifas Gymnasium at Manistique High School. (Escanaba Daily Press photo by Mitch Vosburg)

MANISTIQUE — Despite suffering a four-set loss to Negaunee on Oct. 10, Manistique volleyball-playing senior Kamry Flodin was left with multiple reasons to celebrate.

Even though the Emeralds lost 25-19, 17-25, 15-25, 18-25 to the Miners, Flodin made history.

Her 47 digs were a single-match program record. Her effort also brought her career digs total to 1,255, the most in program history.

Tears and emotions flooded the libero. She shattered two school records, how could she not be happy at this moment?

But her tears were filled not with joy. They were filled with grief, anger, confusion and pain.

Manistique senior Kamry Flodin, front, makes a play on the volleyball during an MHSAA Divison 3 district tournament semifinal match against Menominee on Nov. 6 in the Bonifas Gymnasium at Manistique High School. (Escanaba Daily Press photo by Mitch Vosburg)

The day before she etched her name in Manistique volleyball’s record books, she was given life-changing and life- shattering news.

Grace Miller, Flodin’s best friend, died in her sleep on Oct. 9 at 17 years old.

“I did it for Grace,” Flodin told the Daily Press. “It was all for Grace.”

An unbreakable duo

It was the start of the 2018-19 school year at Manistique Middle School. It was Miller’s first day as an Emerald after her family moved from the Lower Peninsula.

On the first day of school, Miller rocked a T-shirt which displayed England’s flag. At first the student body was left in a state of surprise. Is the new girl really British?

Then Miller opened her mouth in front of Flodin for the first time. A straight Michigan accent spewed out.

Any initial thoughts of being the cool foreign outsider went out the window on that day. But she did go on to remain popular amongst her peers. By the time her senior year of high school rolled around, she was deeply rooted in the school.

She was a member of the National Honor Society, a cheerleader, a hurdler and even spent a season on the basketball team. All these were only the tip of the iceberg of extracurricular activities she was part of while she ranked in the top 10 of her graduating class.

It was a combination of determination, intelligence, curiosity, a dash of fearlessness and ability to have a lot of fun that made her a friend to everyone she crossed paths with while possessing aspirations that flipped from being an architect to an aerospace engineer.

But Miller formed an incredibly tight bond with Flodin in junior high. It was a friendship bonded over the love of space, trying to find the answers of what life is beyond planet Earth.

“Grace had an ability to make everybody feel welcome and valued,” said Amy Nixon, a teacher and varsity volleyball coach at Manistique. “I think that’s what drew Kamry to her. I think that really made them connect.”

It was a bond that became unbreakable over time.

There are some pairings of students that teachers do everything they can to keep separated so there is some sort of order in class. The tag team of Miller and Flodin was not one of them.

“They were giggly together,” Nixon said. “But they knew when class time was on that they had to stay focused. It was nice to have them together in class.”

The duo operated on one singular wavelength. A radio channel dialed solely for the two of them with a sense of humor that’s … well, that’s what is hard to define.

When asked to describe the sense of humor between her and Miller, Flodin spent several moments trying to come up with the proper combination of hundreds of thousands of words in the English language that accurately describes the sense of humor between the two.

Her answers were met with giggles and a smile. But not any ordinary giggles and smile. It’s how you’d expect a toddler to react after being reunited with a fun grandpa, and grandpa brought candy and a teddy bear.

“I can’t explain it,” Flodin said. “Just going through my texts (with Miller) you’d expect me to cry. I cry, but laugh.

“I’ve never met anyone with a sense of humor like that.”

And here they were, down to their last year of high school.

Everything appeared to be aces for the tandem.

College plans were being made. Memories from one last year inside the walls of Manistique High School were destined to be made. Kamry’s younger sister, freshman Kendyl Flodin, made the varsity volleyball team.

“I feel like it brought us closer together,” the elder Flodin said of playing with her younger sister. “It was nice driving home together after volleyball and being able to talk to her about volleyball.

“It was a proud moment for me that she made the team as a freshman.”

Flodin even got her hands on her dream car — a 2022 Ford Edge.

“It was me and my small friend group,” Flodin said. “I was so happy.”

It was set to be a fairy-tale ending to a magical friendship. Then one Monday permanently altered the trajectory of this tale.

——————–

Just screaming in tears

It’s Monday, Oct. 9. Flodin sat in her first-hour class. Her partner in crime, who sat next to her, was nowhere to be found.

Kamry Flodin asked her teacher where Miller was at. No answer. So Flodin did what any teenager did in 2024 — blows up Miller’s phone with text messages and missed calls.

Texts like “Wake up!” “Where you at?” and “Come on, pookie!” spammed Miller’s phone. No response.

“I thought she slept through her alarm,” Flodin said. “I was just spam-texting her. I also texted her on Snapchat and I called her. I was like ‘I needed to wake this girl up.'”

Moments later an email circulated around to Manistique’s staff inside the middle and high school. An impromptu assembly was set to be held later that day to address the situation.

At this point, Flodin saw that the messages she sent to Miller’s Snapchat account were opened. Flodin was under the assumption that Miller had simply overslept. She made her way to the assembly with the rest of the student body. She didn’t know that Miller’s parents were the ones who opened the Snapchat messages to rule out any foul play.

She also found out that there would be no school that Friday. Flodin was so happy she admitted that she could “rip my hair out right now.”

But before she reached the auditorium she was pulled aside and asked to step outside. There, Flodin found the school’s guidance counselor flanked by her own mother, who was in tears.

It was at that moment when Flodin learned the truth of Miller’s absence.

It was at that moment where Flodin’s life changed forever.

It was at that moment where Flodin learned that her best friend had died in her sleep that morning.

She immediately hugged her mother, screaming in sadness over the loss of someone she shared an undeniable and indescribable sisterhood with.

“At first I kept asking ‘Why?'” Flodin admitted. “I was really scared that she did something to herself even though she hadn’t been sad or anything. I kept wondering why, because she was really healthy, too. I was really confused. I was also really mad.”

Nixon knew what happened. She was one of the first to be made aware of Flodin’s situation.

“I remember seeing Kamry outside finding out, just screaming in tears,” Nixon said. “I could hear her from inside, the pain she was going through. It upset me too, because I knew what kind of effect it was going to have on Kamry and the rest of our school.

“There’s certainly no class that you can take on how to deal with something like this.”

Practice for the day immediately became optional. Flodin was the only one absent. She was away from the school grieving.

She remembered one of the last conversations she had with Miller, who wanted to drop $100 on a pair of shoes. Flodin talked her out of it, saying that all of Miller’s hard-earned money from a part-time job at McDonald’s should go toward something more productive.

After the news broke, Flodin and her boyfriend, Manistique senior Cooper Curtis, ventured to Appleton, Wisconsin. Flodin embarked on a shopping spree, spending at least $500 on the trip.

“I didn’t care about anything,” Flodin said. “I felt like money didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.”

Curtis and Flodin arrived back in Manistique that evening. Flodin stood in her family’s driveway as she watched Curtis drive away. An anxious thought then creeped into her mind — what if that was the last time she saw Curtis? Can she handle losing her best friend and her boyfriend?

“To this day I freak out when people fall asleep,” Flodin revealed. “I have to check my sister’s room most nights when she’s sleeping to make sure she’s still breathing. I freak out about it now.”

——————–

Now it’s Tuesday, Oct. 10, a day removed from the tragic passing of Miller. In order for Flodin to even consider playing in that evening’s match against Negaunee, she had to be present for at least three hours of the school day.

She debated even playing, but she knew Miller would want her to press on.

So Flodin spent a good amount of time tucked inside the school’s old guidance counselor’s office accompanied by the school’s therapy dog. The remaining time was spent either coloring in a classroom or Nixon’s classroom, but not in her usual spot. Normally she’s seated next to Miller at a table in the middle of the classroom. On this day both chairs usually occupied by Miller and Flodin went empty. Flodin instead opted to sit alone inside the classroom’s supply closet.

“It was heartbreaking to see the pain she was in,” Nixon said. “There was just this aura in the air. You could feel the loss.”

Flodin survived the mandatory three hours of school. She was set to play against Negaunee.

And like every athlete, Flodin is a creature of habit. She spends time before each match getting her hair set right in a perfectly tight, slicked-back bun to help her “feel aerodynamic and like she can dive anywhere she wants to.”

Her makeup is done down to every minute detail while listening to “Blood on the Asphalt” by BigBabyGucci in the background. Look good, feel good, play well, right?

The routine works. Flodin was all-state honorable mention as a libero a year ago. She traveled eight hours round trip to play with a club team in the Lower Peninsula after school during the off-season.

Her quick first step, according to Nixon, is what made Flodin a four-year varsity player and a defensive team captain in 2024.

“It’s rare to see a kid who can move quickly, react and get what’s going on as an eighth-grader,” Nixon said. “She’s special with her physical abilities. I knew I needed to make her jump to varsity right away.”

On this day, though, none of that mattered. Her bun was not perfect and tight. Her makeup was not done. There were multiple instances in the moments before the match where she cried so intensely that she couldn’t breathe. It was going to be the first match Flodin played without Miller watching in the student section like a true friend.

Yet, somehow, some way, once the first whistle blew, the outside world, every layer of tragic adversity and fresh mental and emotional wounds, faded into the background. Flodin’s first-step quickness was on full display, and at a higher level of explosiveness than she normally plays with.

She was getting loose balls she admits she normally wouldn’t get to. The game felt a tick slower than it normally does.

And while the Emeralds fell in four sets, Flodin achieved two milestones that day. She set the program record for digs in a single match with 47. And thanks to that effort, she became the program’s all-time leader in career digs.

The school also raised nearly $1,000 in less than 24 hours to help cover funeral costs.

On a day where she didn’t even think she could muster the strength to play the game she loved, she shattered two program records. One that cemented one of the craziest days of her life while simultaneously cementing a half decade’s worth of work.

“I fully believe all of it was Grace,” Flodin admits. “I think without her I would’ve played terribly.”

Flodin and the Emeralds finished the season winning their second straight district championship. She also added a new element to her prematch routine — adding tape to her wrist with the letters “GLM,” the initials of her late best friend.

Flodin once again earned all-state honorable mention honors for her efforts at libero, putting her on a short list of top-end players for the second straight season. She also earned First Team All-Upper Peninsula honors by the U.P. Sportswriters and Sportscasters Association, cementing her as one of the top defensive players in the region.

Her accomplishments don’t end there. She was named a recipient of the Gil Heard Courageous Athlete Award, a recognition given by the UPSSA to a U.P. athlete who demonstrates great courage in overcoming disabilities or other hardships in achieving academic and/or athletic excellence.

“I think future players, they can look up to (Flodin) as a role model,” Nixon said. “If you have a goal, nothing’s stopping you from achieving it. Volleyball was her goal. If you’re willing to do the work, you can achieve great things.

“I hope that’s what future kids will take from Kamry.”

Yet, despite all the accolades and accomplishments, the anxiety from her best friend’s death still lingers in her everyday life.

“I’m still in denial,” Flodin said. “I would text her like normal, then I’d freak out when Cooper would tell me she’s not here. I’d freak out as if someone was telling me for the first time again.”

While healing from the grief is still an ongoing process for Flodin, she remains grateful for having a friend like Miller in her life in the first place.

“I feel like instead of being sad, we should be happy that we got someone like Grace, even if it was for just a certain amount of time,” Flodin said, citing part of the speech she gave at Miller’s funeral. “Most people don’t find (a friend) like her ever. The fact that God let us have her for 17 years is still something to be happy about.”

Miller wasn’t just any ordinary friend. She was a friend that helped guide her to pursue a career exploring space.

Flodin’s aspirations revolve around finding the answers to two research questions the University of Michigan is trying to solve. First is solving why the universe is expanding, and secondly, what is the center of the universe?

“Grace and I watched so many videos about it,” Flodin said. “We had a list of all these things we wanted to answer. I feel like that’s part of my motivation. Maybe when I die and I see her in heaven, I can tell her the answers.”

“The Big Dog” Mitch Vosburg is a multi-award-winning sports writer and photographer who is sports editor at The Daily Press in Escanaba and is a voice for high school athletes in the Upper Peninsula. He can be reached at mvosburg@dailypress.net.