Eleven Years
On this day eleven years ago, my youngest sister, Jody, was killed by a drunk driver in Canyon County, Idaho. Had she lived three more weeks, she’d have celebrated her eighteenth birthday with the fresh new high school diploma from the day before in her hand. She was a spectacular supernova of a person—bright, hilarious, beautiful. I can only imagine what she’d be right now, eleven years later, if she was still with us. I only know that whatever it would be, she’d inspire all of us.
On this day in 2006, I’m going to bring flowers to her and click into my pedals. I’m riding my bicycle in her memory for three weeks, heading southeast to the hospital in which she was born near Alamogordo, New Mexico. It’ll be 75 miles a day through the Rocky Mountains. My plan is to donate a chunk of money to the state chapters of MADD and SADD of every state I ride through. I will arrive where Jody was born on her 30th birthday.
Jody was loved by everybody and there’s a gaping unfillable void where she used to be. Everyone that knew her misses her. For someone to have their entire future ripped away because another person needed a couple more beers is tragic beyond words.
I miss you, little sister. I always will.
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