It was just after 11 a.m. on a warm April morning. My husband was snoozing on the sofa in front of the television, but I wasn’t content to be cooped up inside on such a beautiful spring day. Instead, I was outside working in the yard attempting to rake all the leaves into small piles before setting fire to them.
I had worked up a thirst and decided to pour myself a glass of cold water. I had barely taken my first sip when I heard the ring of my cell phone. Seconds after answering the call, my life was changed forever. It was the phone call that no parent should ever have to answer.
My daughter-in-law was calling to let me know that my 41-year-old son and his best friend had just been in a serious auto accident while returning from a hunting trip. My husband and I left immediately, but there was nothing to be done. I lost my son that day.
I learned from the scene of the accident that an 18-year-old girl was driving in the opposite direction on the other side of the median. She allegedly had been in the middle of a text on her phone when she lost control of her vehicle.
I know very little about this young girl who was there the day I lost my son. There was no case brought against this individual and, to the best of my knowledge, she had no injuries and continues to carry out her life the same as usual. As far as I know, there was never any attempt made on her behalf to establish any sort of contact with myself or any member of my family.
How important was that message she was texting to someone? Could it have been nearly as important as the endless amount of pain it caused?
I often wonder if she thinks about the consequences of her actions. If she realizes how my son was taken from his wonderful wife and his two beautiful little daughters. I know my son was not ready that day to leave his family, his friends, his career. He had worked so very hard to get where he was in life. Does she, or will she ever, realize the many lives she changed in just an instant?
As my son was being lowered into the ground, I had thoughts about her and wondered what she was doing. I’m sure her mother was happy to have her alive, to have her to hug and hold.
I work in midtown Atlanta and I have a long drive every day coming from the outer suburbs. There are parts of my trip when traffic is barely moving at all. On any given day, while making my unpredictable commute, I can look to both sides of me and see drivers of all ages, either gender, and of any race, taking the time to text.
Texting that next message is the priority and driving a several ton automobile is secondary.
There are many different techniques used by commuters in order to text and drive. Some will hold the phone down toward their laps so as to remain discreet. There are also those who will hold their phone atop their steering wheel. These individuals aren’t concerned with being seen. They pretend not to see large signs that state, “Texting While Driving In Georgia Is Illegal.” Some will simply ignore these signs, if as though that particular law does not apply to them.
One sign I pass on the freeway goes as far as to list the statistics. It states that drivers who text while operating a motor vehicle are 23 percent more likely to be involved in an automobile crash.
I recently had the the disheartening experience of seeing an off-duty police officer with her phone up to her face, her fingers moving rapidly over the screen of her phone as she conversed with someone.
What will it take? Will you, or someone that you love become a statistic?
Please don’t for one minute believe that this type of tragic incident only happens to others, and will never happen to you. That dreaded phone call will change your life, just as it did to me. It was the last call I ever thought I’d receive while raking leaves on that April day. I went from thinking about what to make for lunch to thinking about how my life would ever carry on without my son.
My granddaughters often look up at me and ask me to tell them a funny “Daddy story,” so they won’t ever forget him. Every time they ask me, my heart breaks.
Who will be there for all of their father-daughter functions at school? Who will take them on camping trips to the lake? Who will be there to walk them down the aisle?
Please believe me: There is no text that you can make with anyone on earth that is worth it.
Louise Waldrip
Fayetteville, Ga.
