We were the most typical, average American family ever. My mom got her teaching degree and spent her whole career as a middle school English teacher.
We were going south, at the same time an 18-wheeler, a tractor trailer, was going north just opposite us. Also, at the same time there was an 18-year-old young man who was driving to visit a friend. He had picked up his phone just to call that friend, never even saw the red light that he went through to make a left.
The 18-wheeler swerved, hit the front of this young man’s car, but he only received minor injuries.
But he hit our car head-on. My parents were killed and I was left with unbelievable physical and emotional pain for something that didn’t need to happen.
“When we are driving, we should only be driving.”
My brother was working on a city street in St. Louis. Cones. Tape. Signs. A texting driver hit him. He bounced off the car and landed in the street. Broken brain stem. Two years in a hospital bed and died early 2016. Never got to see his daughter walk the aisle and never saw his 2nd grand daughter. I forward these in his memory.