Guilt begins at 0.08%

Grief Diaries DUI

“It will get easier.” Now, eleven years later, I can say that yes, in some ways it has. My Dad’s death is no longer one of the first things I remind myself of when I wake up, nor is it the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. But it has been 4,019 days, and I still miss him. April 22 is a constant reminder. I still have days and weeks when it’s just as painful as it was eleven years ago, and I still have moments that make my head spin, today will always be one of those days.

Grief DiariesThere are several things in particular that almost always trigger one of these moments and force me to quite literally say hello to my grief. There have been countless occasions when I’m watching a movie, TV show, or listening to a song and something hits me. A line or situation sticks out, reminding me of my dad in some way. Suddenly something’s different; there’s a pang of sadness, a feeling of nostalgia, or a flood of bittersweet sentiment. Sometimes this moment is brief and I bounce back immediately. Other times, I feel the tears rushing to my eyes.

There’s something incredibly bittersweet about accomplishments, knowing that my dad’s not here to enjoy them with me. Hands down, one of the hardest things that has come with losing Dad is the occasional realization of how much time has passed and here we are eleven years later. Birthdays, holidays, and other milestones are all reminders. There are days when I feel like it was just yesterday that he was taken from me, other times, I feel as if it has been a lifetime.

Many people who have not lost someone to homicide mistakenly believe that it’s something you will get over, or that you’ll have some sort of closure. However, the truth is, I still hurt eleven years later. It’s not a constant, overwhelming, consuming grief, but the little things within which grief hides hit me when I least expect it.

Take a good look at the photo and for the love of life please give no less than 100% of your attention when driving.

Life can change in an INSTANT. There are no second chances. Drive safely and responsibly. The presumption of guilt starts at 0.08%. Responsibility starts at 0.00%.

Written by Carl Harms. Read Carl’s full story in Victim Impact Statement, and Surviving Loss by Impaired Driving.

What would you look like?

Grief…….you never know when the emotions and deep aching wounds will surface. They are always there, sometimes lingering just below, just far enough down that you are able to keep the tears from falling and your breath from catching in your throat. But it is there.

Tonight while coming home from work, I drove by the ponds where Brandon used to hang out, and I thought to myself, he is 22 now, he wouldn’t be hanging out there anymore. None of his friends hang out there anymore. They are all grown up, in love, making a different life for themselves with their mates, they all have full time jobs. And I  thought my Brandon didn’t get to get any older, he will forever be 17. He wasn’t able to build a different life. He won’t ever find his woman for life, or have kids….he never got to mature. I don’t even know what he would look like today at more than 22 years old.

Driving by the ponds caused these thoughts and emotions, and I am still crying more than 5 hours later. Brandon, how I wish you were 22 years old. How I wish you were with your lady for life, having that career you dreamed of, doing the things you planned. How I wish I knew what you would look like today. Would your voice be deeper, your laughter richer, your hugs tighter? Would you be a father? You always loved kids. And I think, can I do this without you Brandon? How can I live without you? How can I live, when you aren’t?

God, I miss you, Brandon.

Written by Kim Thomas. Her 17-year-old son Brandon was killed by a drunk driver outside Calgary, Canada, in December 2012. She shared her story in Grief Diaries: Victim Impact Statement.

Grief Diaries