Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek or the song What That Drink Cost Me, preformed by Sara Evans and released on her 2011 cd Stronger.


I stood in the doorway staring at the casket in which my husband lay. He was a good husband, nothing like the player he had been in high school. He had grown up. Yet, he still retained the boyish smirk and smart aleck attitude that I fell in love with. We had married while we were still in college. I never dreamed he would be taken from me within six short years. He was only twenty six, too young to die.

And, yet when that truck came spiraling at him full speed, never touching their brakes, there was absolutely nothing he could do. He had turned our car. He had turned it. He had his family with him, he had us, and he turned the car so he would take the full impact. He was trying to protect us when we shouldn't had to have been protected. We should've been able to go out that night as a family and make it home safe and sound. We shouldn't have ended up in the hospital fighting to live. He shouldn't have ended up dying. I shouldn't have to live knowing that my husband was dead and my baby boy, my sweet boy, would never have the chance to stand and walk on his on two legs again.

It was supposed to be a fun family dinner. We had gone out for some fun after a long week. I taught kindergarten at the local elementary school and Derek was the gym coach. It had seemed as if the week was never going to end so I was thrilled when he ask me if I wanted to take our kids and meet the siblings for a movie. I had immediately yelled "yes," and we had laughed as we held each other tight.

"Casey, are you about ready to go?" Derek had asked. "If we don't speed this up a bit then we aren't going to make it to Pizza Hut on time. Your sister will kill me if we miss the beginning of the movie because we didn't have time to eat. And, Ed will kill me if he doesn't have time to eat before we the movie starts."

"Relax why don't you. Look on the bright side. Your Smarti will be happy with anything you do. Simon will too." "Ok, well are you going to deal with the wrath of Liz and Ed?" " Ok, ok ok, I get your point. Help me get the kids dressed and we can leave. I already have our bag packed."

Derek had gotten our five year old Jacob Elijah (Jake) dressed while I pulled three year old Riley Morgan's hair into pigtails. Eight month old Alexa Grace lay asleep in her car carrier. "So, are all of our siblings going to be there," I asked. "Yeah," Derek said. "And apparently Marti's bringing her new boyfriend." "It doesn't seem like she should be old enough to have a boyfriend does it," I asked. "Then again, it doesn't seem like we should be old enough to have three kids, and it doesn't seem like Liz and Ed are old enough to have a baby either."

Derek said, "I know. It seems like just yesterday that we were having screaming matches in the hallway of Dad and Mom's house, Ed and Liz were spying on each other, and Marti was pretending to be a kitty under the kitchen table. I just don't understand how time has flown so quickly."

"Well time is still flying, and we need to be too. If you can get Jake and Riles in the car, I'll get the bag and Alexa's carrier." "Ok, it's a deal."

I never dreamed that would be the last time he helped me load our kids in the car. I never dreamed that we would go out as a happy family with a lifetime ahead and come back broken. It's all I could do to get the kids dressed and get to Derek's funeral on time. I don't know how to handle the years to come. There are so many things that he is going to miss out on. I wish he was going to be here to help me through the rest of my life. To see our babies grow up. To talk with Jake and eventually have that first beer together. To walk his baby girls, Riley and Alexa down the aisle on their wedding day. But, he was gone.

We pulled up at the restaurant fifteen minutes after we were supposed to be there. Lizzie and Edwin were already sitting at a big round table with one year old Gavin Carter's high chair between them. Marti was seated beside a boy who I had not met before. I gripped Derek's hand as I carried Alexa across the restaurant. Riley was riding high on her daddies shoulders and Jake was running ahead anxious to see his aunts and uncles. I hugged Liz and Marti. I affectionate patted Ed and Simon's head. I sat Alexa in a high chair and sat down beside Liz. I looked around to make sure Derek had Riley situated in her booster seat, and Jake was sitting next to Derek behaving.

Dinner had passed quickly with many laughs. Derek and Ed had interrogated Marti's new boyfriend Lucas Robinson. It wasn't long before Lizzie had started yelling about being late for the movie. We had cut dessert short and grabbed extra popcorn in the theatre. The theatre was basically empty and we had enjoyed ourselves immensely during the movie. It was some a family comedy movie. Jake and Riley played with Gavin during the movie and Alexa slept comfortably on her daddies shoulder.

When we hugged our sibling's goodbye all seemed well. Derek had hugged Ed, Simon, and gave a speech to his Smarti about the new boyfriend. He had kissed Gavin's head as the sweet little boy lay on Liz's shoulder. Ed helped Derek get Jake and Riles, who were both sleeping soundly, into our car while I buckled in Alexa.

It didn't seem like goodbye. It shouldn't have been goodbye. It should be have a good week, see you later; never goodbye. Yet, it was. It was so final. Derek had kissed me after he got in the driver's seat. We had smiled looking back at our perfect kids in the backseat. The kids were spitting images of Derek. They all had his amber brown hair. They all had his smirk that I loved so much. Jake was tempered very much like Derek. He loved pulling jokes and Derek was already trying to teach him hockey. Riley loved reading like me, but she also loved sports like her daddy. Even little Alexa would giggle more when Derek was playing with the other two.

Derek pulled the car out into the line of traffic behind Ed and Liz. Ed and Liz were headed to Mom and Dad's house and we debated following them. Our parents were no longer, Nora and George. They became Mom and Dad instantly, to all of us, the day Derek and I got married. I'll never forget mama's reaction the first time Derek called her mom. And to our kids they were always Nana and Pawpaw. Jake, Riles, and Alexa were all sleeping soundly in the backseat and we decided that we would just go over tomorrow evening. At the red light we turned a separate direction from Liz, Ed, Smarti, and Simon.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been different if we had followed our siblings. Would Derek still be here? Would Jake be able to walk? Would I have to look at Riles and see the bright pink casts that cover her little arm and both legs? Would I have to look at Alexa and see a bandage that was hiding stitches, stitches on an eighth month old? Or, would everything be okay? Would we have lived happily ever after?

I felt myself nodding off to sleep as Derek drove. Our hands were intertwined over the console in the middle of the car. He drove with the expertise that he had developed over the years. I never worried about our safety when Derek was driving. He would do anything to keep us, to keep his young family, safe from harm. We were driving over a bridge across a clear country creek. It was about five miles from our house, five miles and we would be home safe and sound. My eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.

I felt Derek jerk his hand away from me, and I jolted awake. I could see the headlights coming straight for us. It was in our lane. I screamed and I heard Jake began to cry. Derek jerked the car around and we were spinning. The crunch of metal and the shatters of glass were sickening as the truck hit the front fender on Derek's side. We rolled and rolled, and I felt as if we were flying. We rolled over the small guardrail and landed in the ditch below. Every muscle in my body ached. Blood poured down my head. I could hear my children crying in the backseat. I couldn't move. I couldn't turn to see if they were okay. My leg was pinned under the dashboard that was now sitting at an awkward angle. "Derek," I had said. "Derek, are you okay?" "Derek." I was met with silence.

I still shudder when those images pop back into my head. They play again and again like a bad picture. Like a movie stuck on rewind during the worst part. I was just a character in a horror story that couldn't escape. A character living the tragedy over and over again with no happy ending in sight. I could hear my own scream echoing around our car. I could hear my children's cries in the dark night, and the silence as my husband didn't answer my hysterical cries. I could hear the sirens and see the flashing lights. I could hear the paramedics whispering to one another as I came to the realization that my husband wouldn't see the light of day again. I could feel myself being lifted and laid on the stretcher uncertain of where my kids had ended up and if they were okay. I could see the masked faces of the doctors, the caring eyes of the nurses, and the tears running down Mom and Dad's faces.

I had held Alexa in my arms as Riley sat in her Pawpaw's lap. The doctor had talked in what seemed like a monotone as he told me that my five year old baby boy had suffered a spinal injury and would never walk again. When Derek had turned the car he had taken most of the impact, but the impact that Jake was subjected to had taken a toll on his small body. I tried to stay strong. I tried not to let my babies see me cry. I could feel my mother's comforting hand on my shoulder and hear the quiet sobs of my sisters, Liz and Marti. I knew that my life would never be the same again.

It was hard coming back home. It was hard walking into my house and knowing the man of the house, the spirit of the house, was missing. It was hard knowing that our home would never again see the joy that had once been here. And, then there were so many changes. So many things that would never be the same again. So many things that I was going to have to adjust too, things I would have to do by myself.

Mom and Dad helped for a few days. We had to plan the funeral. It was so hard talking about burying my husband when I kept expecting him to walk back through the front door. I kept expecting to hear him playing with our kids, and him calling my name. I kept expecting something that wasn't going to happen, but no matter how many times I told myself that I just couldn't accept it.

The day of the funeral was exhausting. I felt like I hadn't slept in weeks. Riles and Alexa were crying because they missed their daddy. It was impossibly hard to see my five year old baby in a small wheelchair, they shouldn't have to have wheelchairs that size, trying to hold back his tears and be brave for mommy, be brave for me. It hurt to talk to people about him. It hurt to stand there and try to celebrate his life, when I couldn't even accept his death. He looked almost fake in that casket. I couldn't help but reach out and touch him. He felt cold, like wax. Spiritless, and empty. Not like my Derek.

The preacher said words that were meant for comfort but it only made the whole in my heart grow more and more. Every word served to remind me that that was one more minute, hour, day, and year that I was going to have to be a single mother working hard to get my kids through school because of another man's mistake. Because another man had taken everything from me, my husband, my world, and my babies legs. I had leaned heavily on Edwin for support, and strength. Strength to do what I had to do, even though not an inch of me wanted too; even though not an inch of me was convinced that I could actually take on everything that I needed to without him.

Every person in the funeral home had approached me at least once to share their fond memories of my husband. I had smiled and agreed as tears made tracks down my cheeks. I had seen many of mine and Derek's friends from high school who we had lost touch with over the years. Sam and Emily had come to the funeral and that only made me wish that Derek could've seen what our friends had become. We had missed their wedding since Riley was due any day. We hadn't gotten an opportunity to see them since the wedding. He hadn't had an opportunity to meet their kids, two year old Christian Samuel and six month old Aubrie Laurel Richards. He hadn't had an opportunity to do a lot of things.

To see Derek put in the ground made me go numb. I couldn't cry and I couldn't scream. I could hardly breathe. Every moment, every fiber in my body was concentrated on watching them lower my husband into the ground. The flowers didn't mean anything, the comforting words that people whispered didn't mean anything; the only thing that meant anything to me at that moment was that my husband's lifeless body was being lowered into the cold hard ground for eternity. I heard whispers talking about the accident, about the driver of the other truck. I hadn't even thought about him. I had heard rumors that he was drunk when he hit us. But every second I had to spare had been concentrated on my family. It hadn't occurred to me that somewhere out there in this same town; somewhere that drunk driver had a family too. Had he survived the accident? Would he get charged with murder? Suddenly I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know if he would have to pay for what he did to me, to my husband, to our family. I needed to know that he would have to pay.

I heard more whispers talking about a memorial service for Derek. He was the best gym coach that had come through this town in a long time. All of his students loved him. The school wanted to hold a memorial service to remember their great gym coach and help the students come to terms with the loss of their teacher. I didn't know what to think about that. It seemed surreal; he shouldn't have to have a memorial service. I felt like I was repeating myself in my head. The only thoughts that circulated through my brain were he shouldn't have to, and why? That was the million dollar question, why? Why did he have to die? Why was it him? A thousand people in this town and Derek was the one that was chosen? It didn't make sense. I couldn't comprehend, and I couldn't understand. I was dancing in circles, twirling around and around the same question and receiving no answers.

The thing that strikes funny to me about funerals is the food. Why does everybody bring so much food? It's not like we actually feel like eating anyway. Eating reminded me of all the meals I had shared with Derek, and all the meals that he would miss from now on. Don't get me wrong. I took care of my family. I made sure my babies were fed and taken care of. But, it was slowly killing me inside every time I looked at the food that was scattered along the kitchen counter. It just served as another reminder that he was gone.

Days slipped by and I fell into a routine. Get up at the crack of dawn, and cry in the shower. Fix breakfast as tears slipped down my face. Dry my face and eyes, regain my composure, and apply my make-up. Wake the kids up and get them dressed. Carry Jake down the stairs to breakfast. Get the girls downstairs and get everybody fed. Run upstairs and get the bags the kids would need for the day. Carry Jake to the car. Get the girls in the car. Take Riley and Alexa to Mom's where they would stay for the day. Drive to school and get Jake to his class. Go on to my class, put on a happy face and a smile, and begin the day; another day I spent trying to convince everybody that I was okay. That was a task, but a task that I was managing quite well. I had everybody convinced that everything was going to be okay in my life. It was hard during those few hours in the day where I wasn't with the kids, and all the other teachers began questioning me about the events going on at home. They wanted to make sure it was going well, they wanted to make sure I was handling it, and they wanted to make sure I was okay. The hardest part was that I couldn't let myself tell them the truth. I couldn't tell them that I cried every morning before I got the kids up, cried every evening while they played quietly in the next room, and cried myself to sleep while snuggled in his shirt. I couldn't tell them that the days were slipping by and I was barely hanging on. Once I got my class back I was okay. I could focus on them again and give away all my extra attention. I was okay when I picked up Riley and Alexa from my parents. I could paste that pretend smile on my face and convince them all that I was recovering and that I and the kids would be just fine. I cried while they played while I fixed supper, but by the time supper was on the table I was okay. Then it was homework, baths, brushing teeth, stories, and the infamous question, "mommy, when is daddy coming home?" I could explain to my young children that daddy had to go to Heaven and we wouldn't see him for a very long time, but I knew they didn't understand. I listened to my babies crying themselves to sleep night after night. Then I could get my shower, put on his t-shirt, and take my turn crying myself to sleep. In the morning I would get up and start it all again.

Several weeks had passed when Principal Carmyn Andrews approached me about Derek's memorial service. They were going to hold it after school and raise money. I didn't comprehend everything she was saying as I was living in a fog. Something about the driver of the other cars children had gone to this school and one of them still attended. They were having a joint effort to raise money for their family and mine. Wait, hold on back up. Does that mean that the other driver, the drunk driver, is still alive and Derek is gone? Why? Or, does that mean that the other driver is dead too? Why don't I know? Have I not even read the paper since his death? Do you mean the family of the monster responsible for all of this is so close to my own? Who was it? Do I know them? Instead of voicing all my questions I just nodded wearily and tried to smile. "Thank you," I said. "We appreciate all the help we can get."

I wore a simple pair of black dress pants, black high heels, and a flowy pink shirt. I pasted a fake smile on my face. I pushed my small son in his wheelchair, held Riles hand, and balanced Alexa on my hip at the same time as we walked into the high school cafeteria where the memorial dinner was being held. Tasks like this were becoming easier and easier as I realized they had to become normal. People smiled and talked to me as I walked. I smiled back and tried to remember how I had acted before, how to act now. Pictures of Derek were scattered around the cafeteria. Many kids were scattered around in groups. Some were talking and carrying on like kids do, some were sharing memories of Derek with one another, and a few even had tears rolling down their cheeks. I bit back a sob and pushed further into the cafeteria. Mom Dad and Simon, Ed and Liz, Sam and Emily, as well as Marti and Lucas met us. Riley immediately jumped into her Pawpaw's arms and Jake began playing with his Uncle Edwin. I silently embraced Mama, Liz, and Marti as Alexa snuggled tight looking around. We headed towards our seats and came to face to face with a huge blown up picture of Derek. Alexa held out her arms and yelled, "Daddy."

The room grew quiet and I snuggled my baby tight. "Dada, dada," she said. "Yeah baby girl that was daddy."

Dad pulled me tight and I silently clung to him willing the tears forming in my eyes to go away. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "We all miss him Case. Me and your mom, your sisters and brothers, these students, your friends, but most of all you and your babies. The precious children that belong to you and Derek. I know you're trying to be strong. I know you want to do this by yourself, and in a way I know we have to learn to let you. But, it's okay to cry. And, it's okay to accept help. You don't have to be strong all the time. You have a right to fall to pieces as long as you pick yourself up, glue yourself back together, and keep trying."

"But, what if once I fall apart, I can't glue myself back together? What if I am forever broken, scarred, and lost? What will I do then? If I can stay strong and keep going I know that we don't have to worry about that."

"Sweetie, you have friends and family here to help you, people who love you. We will help you pick up the pieces and glue yourself back together if you will let us."

I could only nod as I let his words sink into my scarred heart. My aching broken restless heart.

"Derek was a wonderful man. He always had a passion for life and for his family. He was a family man through and through. He would put his family before himself at any second. I had no doubt in my mind that he would take a bullet for his family in a heartbeat without a second thought," Mr. Ronald Stevens an assistant coach said.

Oh Ronald, if you only knew. In a way he kinda did take a bullet for us. He took a speeding car's full impact for us. And he died.

"He was a wonderful friend, someone you could really count on. He was always there in a split second if you needed him. He loved his students, each and every one of them. He could find something special in every student and he helped them bring that out. He boosted self confidence in everything that these students did. He wouldn't accept "I Can't" as an excuse but instead answered "You Can" each time. He loved his students like his own children. He was sad to see the end of the year come. He will be missed forever. May he rest in peace and may his family find comfort in these testing days to come."

Everyone in the room clapped and I grasped Ronald's hand as he walked by. Then it was the students turn to get up.

"Mr. Venturi was one of the best teachers I have ever had. He believed in me even when I didn't. He encouraged me in everything that I did. He boosted my self-confidence and helped me through many rough times in my life. I will miss Mr. Venturi very badly," said a young girl named Brooke.

"Coach Venturi taught me hockey. I never knew that I had the ability to play hockey. Now that is all I want to do. Coach Venturi taught me in his sixth grade gym class five years ago. I am a junior now and because of Coach Venturi I am well on the way to receiving a hockey scholarship. Coach Venturi made a difference in my life in a way no other has. It was devastating to hear that he had been killed. I would like to offer my sincere condolences to his family and Mrs. Venturi. If there is anything I can do to help please let me know," said a boy named Jordan. I remembered Jordan. He had been a scrawny, clumsy kid on the fast-track to juvenile prison. Derek had helped him turn his life around. Derek had loved that child like one of his own. Derek wanted nothing more than to see him succeed. If only he could see him now. A strong, able bodied, sound minded young man who was making something out of his life. I smiled at the young man and motioned him over to my table.

When Jordan walked over I hugged him and said, "Jordan, I'm so proud to see you now. You may think that you were just another student but you held a special place in Derek's heart. He always said that you could do anything you wanted to do in this world, and it looks like your well on your way. I wish Derek could see you now. You're doing great and I am so proud of you."

Jordan just nodded. I could see him holding back tears and it made me sad that he probably hadn't heard those words from anyone in a long time. He just smiled and said, "Thanks Mrs. Venturi. You're husband helped make me the strong man I am today. For him I am forever grateful. If it wasn't for Coach I would probably be in jail right now. Before Coach I didn't think I had a future anywhere but prison. No one in my family has ever succeeded. They have either spent their life in prison or ended up dead. I am going to be the first. Jordan Blake is going to be the first in this family to go somewhere. Like I said I almost have my scholarship set in stone. I am going to be a paramedic. I am going to save lives, something no one in my family has ever done. I am going to help people instead of hurt people."

"I am so proud of you Jordan. Make sure to keep in touch. I want to know when you graduate. I plan on being there."

Then the principal of the school stepped up and said, "We are here tonight to raise money to assist two separate families who've both lost someone they love. Of course, most of us know Mrs. Casey Venturi, kindergarten teacher, mother of three, and the wife of deceased gym coach Mr. Derek Venturi. There are many expenses that Mrs. Venturi could use help with. As many of you know her five year old son Jacob was paralyzed in the accident and they need help with the medical expenses that his treatment and rehabilitation are costing, as well as money to renovate their house to make it wheelchair accessible. There are also the daily living expenses that will begin to collect seeing as Mrs. Venturi has three kids, Jake, Riley, and Alexa Grace, and one income. Mrs. Venturi appreciates all help." I nodded to the people who were staring at me while he talked. I offered a small smile. "However, there was another family involved in this accident in which the community has been ignoring and shunning. Mr. Ethan Martin also passed away as a result of this accident. He left a family behind who are also in need of financial assistance. We have has every child in this family pass through our school during the past few years and the youngest child is still a student. We thank you for joining together this evening for food, fellowship, and raising money for these two families in need."

The crowd clapped before the principal continued. "Would either of the families like to say a few words to the public?"

I timidly thought about raising my hand but woman in the corner beat me to it. She hesitantly made her way to the middle of the room to the stage they had assembled. Many children followed her and I wondered if this was the family of the man who had taken so much from me.

Slowly she began, "My name is Audrey Martin and I am the wife of Mr. Ethan Martin. I would like to take this time to introduce my family and speak to you. I know many of you dislike my family because of what my husband did, and I am truly sorry. I ask you though to open your heart and your ears and listen to our story. I would like to introduce my oldest son seventeen year old Landon and his sixteen year old girlfriend Sage Thomas. My fourteen year old twins Parker and Peyton. And, my eight year old daughter Ava Grace."

I looked at those children and couldn't believe they were the family of a murderer. The children looked so young and innocent. But, their father had killed my husband. Their father had taken away my little boy's youth and the use of his legs. I always said as a teacher I would always recognize the beauty of each individual child. I said that I would never fault a child for their parent's mistakes. But, I was having a hard time of that now. Every time I looked at them I saw children who had their father for so many years, until their father ended his life as he ended my husbands. I blinked back tears and tried to concentrate on what the woman was saying.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard her say, "My husband was a good man. It broke my heart when I found out he had been killed. He was a wonderful husband and a loving father."

Somehow, I don't know when or how I found myself standing up. I felt my knees begin to shake as my thoughts bounced and echoed around my brain. If he was a good man, why did he commit murder? Why did he load himself up with alcohol and then get behind the wheel? Why did he make a stupid decision that hurt so many? Was that drink really worth this? Was he an alcoholic? Was this better or worse for his family in the long run?

She continued, "I really couldn't put my feelings into words for quite a few days. I was numb and my heart hurt. I was scared of what I would do, where would I go? How would I finish raising my family without him? I finally had to sit down and think. And when I thought I was able to put my feelings into words, and then down on paper. This family has always been a very musical family. Ethan was a wonderful musician when he was younger and he passed on his musical talent. The children have very fond memories of him teaching them to play instruments. So as a family we wrote a song. And, we would like to share this with you. We would like you to step into our shoes and see how we feel."

I didn't know what to think. Slowly I saw the two oldest sons pick up a guitar. The littlest girl Ava Grace grabbed a tambourine. The oldest girl Peyton took a seat at a piano. The mom and the girlfriend opened their mouths and begin to sing.

He drove off in his pick-up truck to meet his buddies for a few more beers. I said baby I'll come pick you up. He never called so I waited here. Till all my worst fears came true when I heard a knock at the door, telling me he ain't coming back no more. Blue lights flashing I fell to the floor.

And I lost a good man, to a bad habit. He didn't love the whiskey he just had to have it. If you could put a price tag on everything that haunts me then you'd know what that drink cost me.

It used to be I'd pour it out, every drop down the kitchen sink. So many nights I'd scream and shout, I even tried to hide his keys. Oh, I tried everything. To keep him from going down that road but in my heart just let him go, cause you can't stop a hell-bent soul.

And I lost a good man, to a bad habit. He didn't love the whiskey he just had to have it. If you could put a price tag on everything that haunts me then you'd know what that drink cost me.

I cried a tear for every drop that turned a hero into a coward. And I'd give anything for just one happy hour.

Cause I lost a good man, to a bad habit. He didn't love the whiskey he just had to have it. If you could put a price tag on everything that haunts me, then you'd know what that drink cost me.

Then you'd know what that drink cost me.

Silence filled the room and you could have heard a pen drop. All eyes were on me just waiting to see what my next move would be. I could hear my parents whispering behind me. I could feel my thoughts bouncing around my brain, just waiting for me to explode. I took a deep breath and with tear filled eyes stared at their family. I needed to say something. I needed to voice my feelings. I needed them to understand that they weren't the ones that really lost everything when that man got behind the wheel while intoxicated. They didn't lose everything, they lost the problem. I lost everything that had ever been good in my life. Everything that I loved, everything that I lost forward to. They lost the man that had made their past so awful. I mean honestly if she begged him to stop drinking, and tried hiding his keys; he wasn't the man those children needed in their life. They were better off without him. They lost their past, but me and my babies, we lost our future. We lost the man that held our family together. The heart and soul of every one of us. The motivation to keep working towards the future. The man that made me want to get up and work towards the future every day.

"Do you think I don't know what you are feeling?" I screamed at her. Her head whipped around and stared at me "Do you think I don't know what you lost? Do you think that everyone is going to feel sorry for you? If it wasn't for you husband we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't be at a memorial service for a life cut too short. My husband's life cut to short because of your careless man. My babies wouldn't be without a father because your children's father only cared about himself. I can't feel sorry for you. I can't stand here listening to you whine about how much your life has changed. Cause you don't nothing know nothing about a change in life. You don't know what it's like to be in the passenger's seat beside the man you love as you see as truck barreling towards you. You don't know what it's like to feel the car spinning as your husband tries to take the impact of an accident off of his family. You don't know what it's like to hear your sons' screams, to hear the crunch of metal as you roll, and to hear the deathly silence coming from the one beside you. You don't know about loss. You don't know what's like to be sitting in the emergency room dealing with your own injuries and worrying about your babies injuries when they tell you your husband didn't survive. You don't know the look of fear in your five year olds eyes when the doctors tell him that he will never be able to use his legs again. You don't know what it's like having to carry your son up and down the stairs, to listen to your daughters asking why Jake can't walk and why daddy's not coming back. And, it's his fault. It's that man you claimed to love, it's all his fault."

. I could see the fear in the little girls' eyes, and that fear echoed in my own babies' eyes. My heart caught as I realized that all my students who loved me had just witnessed my outburst. Tears flowed freely down my face. Dad came and took me in his arms. In front of everyone with my mama and my siblings comforting my babies, I buried my head in dad's chest and cried. I heard the woman say she was sorry and I could see her family leave out of the corner of my eye. I cried until there were no tears left in me. That night I went home and tucked my children into bed. I pulled out a photo album and began a new scrapbook. A scrapbook to cover this time in our lives. A time that none of us wanted to happen, but that we all had to face. The time when I had to deal and come to terms with what that drink cost me.


Ok, that's the end of the story folks. I tried to make this story hit an emotional chord in your heart. This is a very sensitive topic to me, and a topic that I feel not enough people take seriously. I hope I did it justice writing about it. The story isn't as good as I had hoped in my opinion. It has taken me over a month to finish due to a very tight schedule in my personal life. As well as exams and schoolwork that comes with the end of the near drawing closer and closer. I had hoped it would turn out better than it did, but I think this is about as good as it's gonna get. Please let me know what you think. Your reviews, your opinions mean everything to me. It's really hard to continue writing when I am not getting much feedback about what people like in the stories and what needs to be worked on. So, please review. Help me grow as a writer. And help yourselves. If I know what to work on I bet they'd be much more fun to read. And lastly I just feel I need to say, if you have gotten this far throughout this story and are still reading THANK YOU

Raineey