When I Drive, I Think of Jessica

On New Year’s Day 2011, I am sitting on my bed and playing with my Barbie dolls when my parents walk in and sit next to me. Although I was only 5, I could tell something was wrong. “Jessica died last night,” my mom finally says.

Jessica was my uncle’s girlfriend of many years. When I think of her, I remember the times we would play school together while she babysat me, and the red notebook that she would draw in with me.

I bury my face in my mattress. My parents tell me that it’s okay to cry, and I do, but I don’t want them to see.

I never really knew what death meant until that day. Gone. Not coming back. Not like my dad’s work trips, in which he was gone for what seemed to be ages, then came back with hugs and presents. This was a trip that she would never return from.

We go to my grandparents’ house later that day, and I sit on the brown chair that is far too big for me. My uncle doesn’t cry. I hear the words “car crash,” “drunk driver,” and “tragedy.”

For Jessica’s funeral, I wore a dress with big black and blue flowers on it, and my best shiny shoes. I don’t understand why we’re in a church when it isn’t Christmas time, or why my mom is crying.

I’ve always loved looking through family photo albums. After Jessica died, I would refuse to look at the pages with her on them. I acted out at school, I cried nonstop, and I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder a few months later. I’ll never know if that fateful car crash was the only cause of that diagnosis, but it certainly was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

When I first learned to drive, I was terrified. I didn’t want to die like Jessica, or like the great-uncle I never got to meet, who also died in a drunk driving car crash. I was cautious: reading the drivers’ manual countless times, taking diligent notes in driver’s education classes, taking every bit of constructive criticism to heart.

My dad was hesitant to let me drive on my own – “it’s not you I don’t trust, it’s the other drivers.” Finally, though, I was handed the keys of the family Volvo and embarked on a two mile drive to school. It was terrifying. My hands were clutching the wheel at ten and two so hard that my knuckles were white, and I was sitting up straight as a rod. When I made it to school, I let out a huge sigh of relief and let my posture deteriorate.

Not only has drunk driving had an impact on my family, but distracted driving has as well. I was on a shopping trip with my parents, who were expecting a baby a few months from then – my now little brother. “Where’s my car?” I mimicked my mom, twirling the car keys in my hand with shopping bags in tow.

We were in the car for approximately ten minutes before a car driving on the opposite side of the road veered into our lane. There was the sound of an impact, and I jolted forward in my car seat. “You stupid person!” I shouted, then, when the shock wore off, I burst into tears.

I sat in my mom’s lap on the side of the road, my neck aching from the sudden jolt, while my dad talked to police officers about what happened. I found out that night that the other driver was looking at their GPS instead of looking at the road. Our car was totaled.

I’ll be the first person to admit that I have a terrible sense of direction. I often rely on Google maps, but I follow what my driver’s education instructor said, and never take my eyes off the road. Instead of staring at a map, I choose to listen to directions so that I won’t need to avert my gaze. When I don’t use maps, my phone stays in my pocket or in the glove compartment.

I love driving my friends around, but I also remember the videos I saw in driver’s education of teenagers getting into terrible car wrecks. Because of this, I have ground rules set in my car regarding volume, touching the driver’s seat, and giving directions. Whether I’m driving to Denny’s after a theatre performance or taking a friend home for a sleepover, my first priority is making sure we get there safely. How important is a few minutes of fun – is it enough to wager your life for? I think not.

Every time I drive, my memories of Jessica are in the back of my mind. I don’t want to die in my car, and I don’t want to cause other people’s deaths, either. Because of my family’s experience with both drunk driving and distracted driving, I make sure to be fully attentive to my surroundings so that even if another driver acts dangerously, I am able to get out of the situation safely.