She would have been eighteen years old today. Would have been invited to the prom, would have had a boyfriend. Her life was cut short two years ago by some drunk driver who smashed into the back of my car. My daughter would have been a champion swimmer. She would have gone roller blading with her brother, and would have baby-sat for the Spellmans, who live next door. She�ll never get to do any of those things now.
She would have gone to college one day. She would have had a successful career. She would have gotten married and had several children. All that she could have been was violently ripped away at 11:10 PM that Saturday night.
Tomorrow will be two years to the day that she died. She�s gone forever, but what of her killer? There is nothing on this earth that will make him feel the pain and anguish that I have. My daughter died in my arms... he will never know what it�s like to watch the light drain from his child�s eyes. He will never know how it feels when your sixteen year old daughter�s last words are �it hurts.�
I was always a safe and informed mother. I always made sure that I knew my children�s parents before I let them go over to their houses, I always checked with the school to find out if they were doing all right in their classes. I always made sure that there were Designated Drivers whenever they went somewhere where alcohol was sure to be. I�m not stupid, I know what kids do. I wouldn�t let them walk home that night. The friend who had driven them to the party had been drinking, so I got out of bed and I picked them up. I didn�t want that irresponsible �friend� hurting my babies, but he still did. He killed my daughter and he put my son in a wheelchair for six months.
The laws on drinking and driving are too lax. This country won�t allow someone to walk up to another person and commit cold blooded murder, but as long as they were drunk and driving a car it�s OK. They�ll receive a suspended drivers license, 500 hours of community service, some embarrassment when their name and picture are plastered all over the newspapers, but not 25 years to life in prison. This isn�t right. I used to think differently until it was my own daughter in the grave. I used to think that people who would drive drunk needed help, but now I know that they just need to be locked away. If his car hadn�t struck a tree after it hit mine other people would have died that night, I�m certain.
How would you feel if you had a birthday present custom made for your child, and they died before you were able to give it to them? How would you feel on the day that the package, all wrapped in silver paper, arrived at your house with a big red bow on the top? That package still sits unopened on her bed. I�ve kept her room exactly the way it was when she left for the party that night, with the exception of the clothing she had tossed on the floor in the quest to find the �perfect party outfit.� Her magazines are still on the nightstand, her books piled on the floor next to the book case.
For weeks on end we could smell her perfume in the house. For months we�d cry when her mail came. She was sent an invitation to a swimming competition... we had to write back explaining the situation. That was hard. Everyone keeps telling me that justice will be served, but I know that it won�t unless I do something. If I don�t tell my story then nothing will happen. Her killer will only end up with a suspended driver�s license and 500 hours of community service, and I�ll end up a bitter old woman. If I don�t tell my story, people will forget what happened, and I don�t ever want that to happen.
My daughter would have had her graduation photos taken this week. She would have graduated high school. She would have had high scores on her SATs. She would have attended her cousin�s Christening. She would have been in our family portrait. She would have been eighteen years old today.