flutelady
05-17-2005, 05:34 PM
"Every 15 minutes, someone in America dies because somebody CHOOSES to drink and drive".
Today, after months of preparation, at our local high school, there was a realistic simulation of a drunk driving accident with multiple fatalities. My daughter was selected to participate in this event. She'll be away from home for two days with no contact. Shortly before lunch, two uniformed policemen arrived at my house to inform me of my daughter's "death". Afterwards, I was given her obituary and instructions. One thing I needed to do was to write her a letter... I would like to share this letter with you. Those of you who have children will understand my feelings. Additionally, I hope we'll all think twice before getting behind the wheel, even after having "just one". I have been guilty of this in the past.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Dearest Emily,
This morning when I woke up, I knew it would be a day unlike any other. I dropped you off early, kissed you goodbye, and came home to wait. The doorbell rang around 11:30 and there stood two motorcycle officers, wanting to know if they could please come in and sit down. They looked me in the eyes and told me that you had been killed last night in a highspeed accident that involved alcohol. That you'd been a passenger and had been ejected from the car.
I knew that you were really safe at school, and that it wasn't real... and I thanked God even as I sat there that all was well... but I was still very upset. I thought about the mothers and fathers that these two officers had to visit "for real" and break this horrible news to. Those poor parents who unlike me, couldn't think to themselves, "my child is safe, this isn't really happening."
The officers reassured me, shook my hand, and left. They left me with your obituary, with your beautiful picture on it. The last picture that I'd ever have of you, if you really had been killed. I thought how awful it would be to never see your wedding picture, or a picture of you with your new baby. I looked at those lovely eyes looking back at mine and thought, "if this was real, I would never again look into those eyes or see that heart-warming smile, never feel her hug". I'd never get to listen to you genuinely laugh at all my dumb jokes. I'd never get to see you dance or talk with funny accents or ever again hear you say "I love you, Mama". I know that I will get to hug you tomorrow night, but I want so badly to hug you now! What if instead of wishing for tomorrow night's hug, I was trying to cope with the reality that I'd never get to hug you again? How could I ever recover from that?
Please, know how fragile and precious life is. How precious YOU are! Never say "just this once" and get into a car if there is any sort of question about the driver, or if you have any sort of fear whatsoever. Call me, anytime... I will come get you! Please, always wear your seatbelt. And please, always know that even if I'm angry, you are my baby and I love you with all my heart.
I always will,
Mom
Today, after months of preparation, at our local high school, there was a realistic simulation of a drunk driving accident with multiple fatalities. My daughter was selected to participate in this event. She'll be away from home for two days with no contact. Shortly before lunch, two uniformed policemen arrived at my house to inform me of my daughter's "death". Afterwards, I was given her obituary and instructions. One thing I needed to do was to write her a letter... I would like to share this letter with you. Those of you who have children will understand my feelings. Additionally, I hope we'll all think twice before getting behind the wheel, even after having "just one". I have been guilty of this in the past.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Dearest Emily,
This morning when I woke up, I knew it would be a day unlike any other. I dropped you off early, kissed you goodbye, and came home to wait. The doorbell rang around 11:30 and there stood two motorcycle officers, wanting to know if they could please come in and sit down. They looked me in the eyes and told me that you had been killed last night in a highspeed accident that involved alcohol. That you'd been a passenger and had been ejected from the car.
I knew that you were really safe at school, and that it wasn't real... and I thanked God even as I sat there that all was well... but I was still very upset. I thought about the mothers and fathers that these two officers had to visit "for real" and break this horrible news to. Those poor parents who unlike me, couldn't think to themselves, "my child is safe, this isn't really happening."
The officers reassured me, shook my hand, and left. They left me with your obituary, with your beautiful picture on it. The last picture that I'd ever have of you, if you really had been killed. I thought how awful it would be to never see your wedding picture, or a picture of you with your new baby. I looked at those lovely eyes looking back at mine and thought, "if this was real, I would never again look into those eyes or see that heart-warming smile, never feel her hug". I'd never get to listen to you genuinely laugh at all my dumb jokes. I'd never get to see you dance or talk with funny accents or ever again hear you say "I love you, Mama". I know that I will get to hug you tomorrow night, but I want so badly to hug you now! What if instead of wishing for tomorrow night's hug, I was trying to cope with the reality that I'd never get to hug you again? How could I ever recover from that?
Please, know how fragile and precious life is. How precious YOU are! Never say "just this once" and get into a car if there is any sort of question about the driver, or if you have any sort of fear whatsoever. Call me, anytime... I will come get you! Please, always wear your seatbelt. And please, always know that even if I'm angry, you are my baby and I love you with all my heart.
I always will,
Mom