My sister, Maria

This is my narrative of the speech I give at the MADD Victim Impact Panels about the loss of my sister.  Speaking for MADD gives me an opportunity to share my story and hopefully to impact others not to drink and drive.  This is a bit lengthy and some of you may find this to be emotional so only read if/when you would like.  I don't read this when I speak but I had to submit it to MADD before speaking.  I use index cards to help keep my place when I need it.  I am not a speaker naturally and I do find it difficult to stand in front of 100-200 DUI offenders and spill my heart out but it has been very healing for me.  I cry every time but my boyfriend says he thinks it is effective for them to see that.  I think I make a difference.  I hope I do.  Thanks for reading and caring!

First of all, I just want you to know that I'm not here to place judgment or guilt on you.  I'm just here to tell you how this has impacted my life.  I'm here to tell you about my sister, Maria. 

I was the oldest of four kids growing up at home.  Maria was the youngest.   I was eight years older than Maria and many times I found myself in the role of parent more than just sister.  I formed a very close bond with Maria mainly in part because I practically raised her.  I have memories of her such as changing her diapers, teaching her how to walk, helping her get dressed, teaching her how to tie her shoes, and helping her with her schoolwork.  I was the one she came to when she hurt herself or when she was scared in the middle of the night.

Our home environment wasn't a very good one so just a few weeks after my high school graduation, I married and moved about 90 miles away.  But when I married and moved away, I had no intention of leaving Maria behind.  In fact, at the time of the incident that I am going to tell you about tonight, my husband and I were actually in the middle of trying to get custody of Maria.

It was on a Wednesday around 11:30am when I received the phone call.  The woman on the phone asked for me and then she explained that she was a nurse at the hospital and that my sister had been involved with a collision with a car.  When I first heard her mention my sister, I immediately thought it was my 14 year old sister.  She was a teenager and one that got into trouble more than a few times so it wasn't going to surprise me to hear that she got hurt but tears quickly filled my eyes and my heart sank when I was told it was Maria who was just ten years old at the time.  In fact, it was just eleven days before her eleventh birthday.

I was thinking it was just a minor incident and that they were overreacting by calling me and then I heard my mother's voice.  I could barely make out what she was saying because she was crying nonstop.  She gasped out a few words and told me that Maria couldn?t breathe, that they had her on machine, and that her heart had stopped 3 times.  I tried to find out more specifics from my mother about what happened but the nurse came back on the phone and all she would tell me is that my mother wanted me there right away. I told the nurse that I would get there as soon as I could. 

As I hung up the phone, the realization of my predicament hit me.  I was babysitting at the time and was taking care of a baby boy that was just a few months old.  The baby's parents and my husband were all in the military and I quickly panicked thinking that I would probably have difficulty getting to my sister.  I don't know if any or many of you tonight are familiar with the military system but it's not always so easy to get a hold of someone.  And that wasn't the only issue I had, my husband and I only had one car and he had taken it with him to work so not only did I have a baby with me, wasn't sure how to get a hold of my husband, but I also didn't have transportation to ensure that I could get to my sister quickly.

The first thought that came to my mind was to call one of my close friends who was also married to a military man and knew the system better than I did.  She quickly volunteered to call and arrange everything for me.  Meanwhile, all I could do is walk around in a daze crying.

Thankfully it didn't take long and my husband called me and told me that he had permission to leave and was on his way home.  He also said that the baby's father would be coming as well so everything was taken care of and soon we were on our way to the hospital.

I remember sitting in the car still in a daze - scared and crying.  At this point, I really didn't know what was going on and the not knowing and wondering was really tearing me apart.  It took us about an hour and a half to get there and I remember that the drive seemed endless.  Do you know that last hour or so of the work day where you're watching the clock but the time seems to pass so slowly?  This is how this drive was for me.

I was remembering the last time I saw her which was just two days ago.  In fact, prior to that time, I hadn't seen her for a few months and hadn't planned on seeing her again until her birthday so now I am thankful for that visit.  It wasn't a planned visit.  A friend of mine, who I hadn't seen in almost a year, called me up out of the blue and asked if I would go with her to look at a college and the college she wanted to see was in the same town my sister was in so we stopped by to say hello.

She was so happy to see me and overflowing with excitement over her coming birthday.  We had no idea what the days ahead would bring.  On planned visits, she'd always come running out the door to greet and hug me before I had even gotten out of the car.  This time, she was sitting in her usual spot in front of the television, only inches away from the screen, playing a video game.  Even though she was involved in a game, she didn't hesitate to stop and come running when she saw me come through the door. We missed each other so much since I had moved from home a year ago. The first thing she asked me was if I would be coming to see her for her birthday. She even told me that I didn't have to get her a present. She just wanted to see me. I told her that I would try. I didn't let her know that in truth there was no way I could ever forget her birthday. In fact, just the day before I was at my friends' house making her a birthday card on their computer.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, my mother's boyfriend was outside waiting for us by the emergency room entrance. He told us that Maria had been hit by a car while riding her bicycle and that she was hurt pretty bad and she was still in surgery.

He led us to the private room where my mom was.  My little sister's friend, her mother, and a staff chaplain were there also.  My mom hugged me and began crying again as she proceeded to tell me more details.

My sister and her friend were riding their bicycles across the street to the gas station on the other side because they could buy chewing gum there for only a few cents each.  My sister loved chewing gum and it was important to her to get all she could with the quarters she accumulated from constantly begging anyone who would listen.  I had taught her not too long before how to ride a bicycle and she wanted to teach her 12 year old friend.  She was on her bicycle crossing the street with traffic on the green light and her friend was a little behind her, just learning to ride a bicycle. The gas station clerk had said the car came speeding out of nowhere and hit her.  Soon after, a convalescent hospital nurse was on the scene giving her CPR.  We were later told that seven different witnesses had come forward to state that the driver had been under the influence of alcohol at the time of the incident.

My mom told me that she had never gained consciousness and was still in surgery and that the doctor should be out soon to talk to us.

When the doctor did come to talk to us, he said things we didn't want to hear. He told us that they were able to control the bleeding in her back but the concern was that Maria had too much fluid on her brain and that they couldn't even determine if there was any brain wave activity until the swelling had gone down which would be about twenty-four hours. He told us that he couldn't offer us any hope and that he had never seen anyone survive in a condition such as what she was in. I remember that he told us that we could use the phone that was in the private room for any calls that we might need to make and to let them know if they could do anything to help. I remembered thinking that the only thing I wanted him to do was to be able to fix my sister.  I wanted to hear her voice and I wanted to see her smile.

I asked if I could see her.  He told me that we could and that they had certain times set aside for visiting in the ICU unit but it should be okay almost anytime.  He had a nurse show me where she was. 

I wasn't prepared for what I saw lying on the hospital bed. The first thought that came to my mind was that the nurse was mistaken and she took me to the wrong room.  I didn't want to believe that the lifeless little girl lying on that hospital bed with her head all bandaged up, surrounded by machines, and covered in tubes was my sister.  I tried to choke back the tears but I couldn't. 

There were blood bubbles in the tube in her mouth and I asked the nurse about it. She told me that Maria had taken a bad fall and probably had some broken teeth in her mouth.   I asked what she looked like under the blanket and the nurse said that she could show me. She respected my sister and closed the curtain while she pulled the blanket down.  Maria looked so normal, like a kid who fell off her bicycle, just a few scrapes on her knees.  On her left hip was a huge bruise though.  It looked like it would be extremely painful.  I wished the bruise on her hip was the only difference from a minor incident, but seeing all of the tubes in her, I knew that the bruise wasn't the only difference.

I sat there beside Maria's bed and held her hand whenever and however long they would let me.  My mom saw her once and said that she couldn't bear to see her like that anymore but I wanted to be there with her.  I didn't want her to be alone.  I didn't want her to be scared.  I talked to her as if any minute she'd answer me back.  But she never did.

As I was sitting there holding her hand, I was trying to prepare myself for what seemed like the inevitable that she wasn't going to make it but I just couldn't imagine living my life without her.

The next morning, we were given the final news that she had no brain wave activity and that she was brain dead. My mother signed the paperwork to give them permission to unplug the machines. I sat there and held her hand while the machine that was displaying her heartbeat slowly came to a stop.

I couldn't believe it.  I wasn't prepared for the pain that overcame me.  I hurt so bad.  I felt as if I could barely breathe.  My precious little sister, Maria, was dead at ten years old, ten days before her eleventh birthday. Eight days before my first year wedding anniversary and one month before my nineteenth birthday.

I just couldn't understand why this horrible thing had happened to her. I loved her so much and I know she loved me so much too.  I know physically she was just my sister, but to me, she was mine.  We had a special closeness, a bond.

My mother had me help her with the arrangements.  We decided to donate her organs.  We were able to donate all of them.  Her organs weren't damaged, just her head.  We found out later that three people (two of them were kids) were helped by our donation of Maria's organs.

My mother wanted all of the arrangements to take place as soon as possible so we could go on with our lives which I felt wasn't possible or even imaginable.

One of the decisions we had to make was what to bury her in.  We decided to have her buried in the light pink lace dress that she wore just a year before as flower girl at my wedding.

We had the wake the evening after she was pronounced dead.  The director of the funeral home suggested that we have a closed casket.  They allowed our family to see her before they closed the casket.  As soon as I saw her, I knew why he suggested that.  She didn't even come close to looking like the beautiful child in the picture that was placed by her casket (this picture I have with me today which was taken just a few months before her death). The funeral director had to put a wig on her in place of her hair, which had been matted by blood and shaved in surgery.  Even the make-up wasn't realistic.  It was applied so thickly, they had to paint on freckles.  I was glad when the casket was closed.  I wanted to stare at her picture.  That's how I wanted to remember her.

The next day was the funeral.  We had a small service in the chapel of the funeral home.  It was nice if you can describe a funeral as nice. The singer sang Jesus Loves Me.  He did a nice job of it, but I couldn't tell you what I would give to hear Maria sing it.

Arriving at the gravesite was very difficult for me.  Two of my girl friends met me at the limousine and practically begged me to get out because everyone was waiting for me to begin the graveside service but I just didn?t want to get out of the limo. I didn't want to see her casket above that hole in the ground knowing they would be putting her there. I felt like all of my hopes and dreams of a wonderful life with her would be over and they were.

My friends did help me out of the limo and to my seat, in fact, they practically carried me there.  Many people were there - family, friends, her school teachers, and even the convalescent hospital nurse who had been at the scene giving her CPR.

The first few months after her death, I was like a ghost or a zombie. I had a difficult time just functioning.  I wasn't able to work or go to school.  I had difficulty eating and great difficulty sleeping.  I kept having nightmares just picturing Maria getting hit by that car. I had survivor's guilt.  If only I hadn't taught her how to ride her bicycle.  I kept thinking if only I had been there, maybe I could have saved her or taken her place.  I wished it had been me instead of her.

I remembered thinking and feeling so scared that I was going to forget her now that she was gone. I was going to forget what her beautiful smile looked like, what her voice sounded like when she told me she loved me, and what a hug from her felt like.  I want you to know that she has been gone 15 years now and I can honestly tell you with 100% certainty that I know now - I will never forget her. It's really a blessing but it's also a curse because in remembering all of those wonderful things about her, I also have to remember that she's gone, that she was taken from me.

Her death has really affected my life in many ways.  My husband and I were divorced just a few years later.  I know that many might argue that marrying young could easily lead to a divorce anyways but I know that losing my sister in the way that I did certainly didn't help my marriage. 

Her death has not only affected me but it has affected all of our family members in a negative way. None of us are the same or ever will be.  I don't know if you've heard of the band, A Simple Plan but they did a music video about a drunk driving crash that gives you an idea of how it affects the family.  I am going to play this for you now.  I would like you to pay especially close attention to the scene near the end of the video where it shows what happens to the family at the time of the impact.

(If you are interested in viewing the video I mention that the band, A Simple Plan, did - you can do so for free at their website http://www.simpleplan.com/index.php?sec=videos
It is currently the third one there and it is called "Untitled".)

I really feel like this video correctly portrays what happened to me when I lost Maria.  The instant that woman's car hit my sister, my life became broken. It was as if something or someone picked me up and threw me across the room. My sister wasn't the only broken one that day she was hit by the car. Every person that knew my sister, every person who had loved her was destroyed that day.  Do you remember earlier when I was describing the incident that my sister's 12 year old friend was there?  She was right behind my sister when she was hit.  She saw the entire thing.  I had my battles with survivor's guilt but I can't even begin to imagine what this young woman deals with every day.  The survivor's guilt or the nightmares she deals with.  I'm sure if she could stand here with me tonight, she would tell you the same thing I'm telling you - we're not the same.

I do hope you can see how tough it is for me to tell you about what happened and that you can tell just a bit of the pain I am feeling and that you can see even years later, that it is a pain that just doesn't go away. There was no preparation for what happened to Maria. She didn't die of leukemia or cancer. She was a healthy 10 year old girl looking forward to a birthday coming up.  We had no idea, no warning. I didn't have a chance to tell her goodbye or to tell her how much I loved her.  I really hope Maria knew how much I loved her and I hope she knew what an important part of my life she was and still is.

I want you to know that I don't believe the woman who killed my sister woke up that morning planning to hurt or kill anyone but she made a choice.  She chose to drink some alcohol and then get behind a wheel of a car and drive.  That choice cost my sister her life and it cost me a very important part of my life.

I just want to end by asking that you please be responsible and that you make a good choice -the right choice.  Please don't drink and drive.

Thank you for listening and thank you for your time.