Normally I
write funny stories. This one has A joke, but I just started writing
and this came out and I wanted to share.
I have been
speaking at victim impact panels since my sister was killed by a drunk driver
in 2008. The people that run these panels will tell you that you’re going to
speak in front of 200 people. Most of them don’t want to be there and/or feel
like they don’t deserve to be there. Then they tell you that even if you get
through to one person, you’d made a difference. It’s hard to believe that when
you’re doing something so raw and vulnerable. But it is true. And that one
person has to be enough of a reward to press on and keep doing what’s important
to spread this message. I posted something on facebook about what I was about
to do, how hard it was going to be, and how I was hoping to get through to just
one person. I don’t do this for attention. I do this because I will take any
opportunity I can to make someone stop and think about what effect drinking and
driving can have on other people. It’s not about you getting pulled over and
arrested. It’s FAR worse than that.
About three
years ago, I was speaking at one of these panels. A woman came up to me
afterwards and said “Was your sister’s name Beth”? I said “yes”. And she burst
into tears. She told me that she used to babysit us when we were very young. I
immediately remembered her. Jenny. Our favorite babysitter. She cried as hard
as a sister or close friend would upon hearing the news of someone passing
away. I hugged her and told her it was alright. She was my one that night.
Later that
night I checked facebook. One of the comments left on my post was from Jenny’s
sister. She wrote “I know of at least one person you got through to.” It really
made it all feel worth it. To go through that story is excruciating and to
think that it’s all done in vain can be heartbreaking. This was the perfect
thing to hear.
Jenny and I
have kept in touch sporadically since then. Today I noticed she posted
something that sounded very familiar. A phrase used in sobriety a lot. I asked
her if she had gotten sober. She said “I’m not going to lie, I haven’t
completely but I’m trying.” She went on to say that she was proud of me. Then I
realized the last time we talked was before I got sober myself. I don’t remember
reading the following story the first time around - it made me all happy and
sad at the same time.
“I don't want to make you sad but my fondest
memory of you is when you were about 4 or 5 & you were in your front yard
crying & I was about 13 or 14 & I yelled over to you & you said
Jenny hurry up come here & I said Erin what is wrong & you said Beth
ate all the Smurfberry crunch!!! So the next time I babysat your mom bought
smurfberry crunch & she told me to pay extra attention to you because you were
sick & you said yeah I got my astroids taken out!!!!! You were &are the
sweetest!!!”
The moral of
this story is that I am hysterical. I have always been hysterical and will
continue to be hysterical.
Additionally,
this one person will sustain me through every speech I ever give from here on
out. Even if the person doesn’t come up to me after, I will believe that they
heard what I have to say and it will make them think twice before doing
something reckless and selfish. I usually get at least one after every speech.
This one though, this one was special.
Today I
celebrate 23 months of sobriety. I told myself that until I hit two years I was
going to treat it like an infant and celebrate each month. Today I was also
asked to speak at another Victim’s Impact Panel next month. Today I noticed
Jenny’s status. There are no coincidences. Today as I ‘celebrate’ the last time
I’ll say however many months I’ve been sober (which is probably a lie, I’ll go
as high as I can count. The 25th will ALWAYS be special to me) I’m
reminded not to be complacent. Not to be cocky. Not to ever stop thinking about
the events of my life that brought me to where I am today. A place which is
great. I’ve been brought here and brought myself here and I’m never leaving.
That’s all.
