Clara’s Last Day
I remember the text as if it was yesterday. “Mom, I’m on my way to the hotel. See you tomorrow.” Then, I watched the news and saw my own daughter, age 18, and a graduate. She was in a car wreck, and was tested to see if she was in the use of alcohol, and she was. I held my phone against my chest, doing soft sobs as I remember my daughter, Clara, walking through the stage. She was walking gracefully in her beautiful blue graduation robe and under it is a beautiful dress that’s the color of her skin. She was smiling very wide as she could be, having her daddy’s smile. She grabbed her diploma firmly and confidently, just smiling. I was very proud of her today. It was her day. After it all, she gave me a huge hug and laughed. She told me, “Mom, thank you so much for being here.” “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I said softly, tearing up as a proud mother should be. I don’t know how is this possible; losing your daughter from a wreck after her graduation as I was driving home. It felt like my world was going to collapse. She was the only daughter I had. It was her day, but now, it was her last day.
A first point-of-view of losing Clara, your daughter.