My daughter died in a car crash when she was eighteen. She had got her P’s just weeks before and was driving at night to pick up her friends for a party. She was the only friend to have her license and had agreed to be the designated driver. This was before there were passenger limits for P platers. All her friends survived, thank goodness, but my beloved daughter did not.
This was over twenty years ago now and all my daughter’s friends who were in the car with her that night have grown up and started families. Their parents are now grandparents, which is something I will never be. My daughter was taken from me far too young and I have never recovered.
When she died, I stopped driving. I couldn’t look at cars, let alone drive one or even keep my husband company when he got a car service in the Northcote area. Being near a car brought me so much pain that I felt like I couldn’t breathe – I felt like I couldn’t stand. Losing a child isn’t something I ever thought would happen to me, and to this day I still flinch when a car jolts unexpectedly and someone takes a risky turn.
People don’t understand what it’s like to experience this much trauma. My husband is the only other person who is going through this with me, and whilst he was able to drive again pretty soon after, I know he struggles with it to this day. That’s why he keeps so on top of his car servicing. If his car needs an auto transmission service in the Brunswick area, then he will get one the very day the warning light pops up. He’s not taking any chances.
Every Saturday night since my daughter’s death, my husband and I have reminisced about her. This is something we do to keep her alive. We don’t want to forget about her, and we want her to live on. I hope she’s at peace.