That Fateful Night
On Thursday, July 25, 2002, I said goodbye to my three teenagers, my nine year-old son, and my husband as they left for a late night walk around Buckeye Lake. Our seventeen year-old son, Matthew had just gotten his license and wanted to drive separately from his father in order to savor a little independence. Of course, our two daughters and their sixteen year-old friend wanted to ride with him. My husband would be following them in his work van, just to make sure they were safe. It was the last time I would hear my girls' voices or see them conscious.
Every Mother's Nightmare
Around 10:30 that night, I heard sirens race past our house as I was preparing to watch TV. I said a quick prayer for the emergency personnel and victims, as I always do whenever I see or hear emergency vehicles. I found out later that the sirens had been for my own children.
When I heard knocking on my door, I assumed my family was back from their walk and I had accidentally locked the front door. Whenever a family member was out at night, I would leave the door unlocked and the porch light on. My mind refused to accept what was happening when I saw the state trooper through the window. I remained very calm as he told me my family had been involved in a car crash.
My Husband, My Rock
The state trooper had been told by my husband not to give me information regarding the seriousness of the crash.
My husband had been frantically working his cell phone from the scene of the crash, calling his brother so that he could drive me to the hospital. He had also contacted one of my best friends and neighbor so that she could watch our two year-old. He was still able to look after my welfare, even while the rescue workers were diligently extracting our children from the twisted chunk of metal and glass.
The Crash
Kimberly Seager and Kathy Seager
(December 27, 1984 - July 29, 2002)
"Every change, desired or not, large or small, involves loss. Losses shape our lives."
Candace Lightner, Founder of Mother's Against Drunk Driving (MADD)
Later, in the hospital, as we kept vigil next to the girls' bedsides, we learned more details of the crash. A young, twenty-three year-old man had plowed into the kids from behind as they waited at a RR crossing for a train to pass. He never hit the brakes. He had been preoccupied with his cell phone.