Meeting the Mother of the Girl My Son Killed
The way we heal is all a matter of perspective
I knew the time would come eventually. Two years after that horrific accident that took the lives of two twenty-one-year-old kids, and she finally came to confront me.
I had thought about the other mother almost daily since the accident. I debated writing her a letter or sending her a sympathy card on the anniversary of our children’s deaths, but something always stopped me.
Why would she want to hear from me? What if I cause more pain?
I had ultimately decided to leave it alone and focus on grieving for just one life. It was all my heart could handle.
If she wants to speak to me, she will find me.
And she did.
Just before daybreak on a Saturday morning in June of 2016, my son, Ben, left a friend’s house in his red Ford Ranger pickup. He and two buddies had been out the previous night bar hopping in Atlanta and had managed to make it the 35 miles back home. Ben had fallen asleep, but was awakened by the calls and texts of his anxious girlfriend who had been begging him to come see her after a recent fight.
Against the advice of his friends, he relented and left the house with the residual effects of the previous…
