There’s nothing quite as comforting as hearing a story about a loved one who has passed away. For me, it often feels even more meaningful than dreaming about them. Although these stories become less frequent over time, they are always cherished. My daughter, Cari, has been gone for over 42 years, yet every now and then, one of her friends shares a memory on Facebook that brings her back to me. I truly treasure those moments.

Recently, a friend reached out with a heartfelt letter about Cari. With her permission, I’d like to share it with you, especially now. Cari would be 59 on September 5th, the real labor day. But for me she will always be 13.

Cari, this one’s for you! Love, Mom
Happy Birthday, Serena! Love, Mom

_____

Dear Candace,
 
I want to reach out to you to let you know what a positive impact you have had on so many people and to let you know I still think of Cari and your family often. 
 
When I was 15 and your girls 13, I was on the same softball team in the  Fair Oaks Softball League. Cari and I had been vying for the shortstop position during the preseason, and she had just beaten me out for that spot on the field a couple of days before Opening Day. I would be playing 3rd base for the season, while your incredibly talented, athletic Cari would be playing the coveted position of shortstop. 
 
Then, Opening Day happened. I was out of town at another event and missed pictures that day (as well as several other teammates who had prior commitments). When I got home later that afternoon, I remember the phone call I received from the coach’s daughter, June Golden, who was one of my best friends at the time. The news was devastating and incomprehensible. Your amazing, talented, smart, athletic Cari had been killed by a hit-and-run driver. 
 
I was one of the multitude of mourners who attended her memorial service. To this day, whenever I see a copy of “The Little Prince” or hear a quote from this piece of literature, I am reminded of her.  
I remember the rest of that softball season so vividly as I wore my hat backward for every game to honor Cari, as that is how she wore hers. I can still picture Serena in the field sometimes wearing Cari’s jersey. 
 
At the end of that school year, in my high school English class at San Juan, we had to give speeches, and  I remember attempting to give a speech about Cari. I got through the part telling about her blowing and popping  bubbles while playing on the field, about her always wearing her hat backward, and about how she had just beaten me out of the shortstop position. Then, I broke down and couldn’t continue.
 
As events unfolded over the next weeks and months, and you started advocating for change in laws pertaining to drunk driving, we saw your grass roots organization turn into a national movement. Through your grief and anger, you were able to effect so much positive change. How you honored Cari and prevented so many others from going through what your family endured by getting legislation passed was monumental and an amazing way to honor Cari here on Earth after she had passed to the other side. 
 
My senior year in high school, I ran cross country for San Juan High School (in addition to playing softball), and our long runs would take us to the cemetery where Cari’s grave is located. I remember going slightly farther so instead of turning around when I reached the cemetery, I added a bit of extra distance by going to her gravesite, and pausing to take a moment of silence and pay my respects to her before continuing to  run back to the high school. 
 
I also remember having a prom date take me to her grave on our way home from prom as it was close to the anniversary of the date she passed. 
 
When my own children, now in their 30s, were in elementary school, I accompanied one of them on a field trip. Part of the field trip was an exhibit on the Constitution and then people who have effected change in laws. You were a feature of this exhibit (here in the Portland, Oregon area) with a prominent display of all you had done to that point accompanied by a picture of you. The message at the bottom was something about how ordinary citizens could have an impact and change the system by getting legislation enacted. 
 
Over the years, Cari and you have popped up in conversations, events, and other occurrences, many of which I have not initiated with anyone. 
 
I want to express my gratitude for how your actions in your time of intense grief, pain, and anger have shaped my life and actions as well as the life and actions of others. 
 
With gratitude and enduring memories,
 
Barbara Penn
Former Softball Player With Cari and Serena,
Former Resident of Citrus Heights, California