I know that I am going to come off sounding like the most heartless woman on the face of the earth, but I'm compelled to say it anyway.
If I had a daughter who died in a horrible car accident, I would be broken hearted. I cannot imagine the grief, and truth be told, it makes me kind of sickish to think of such a thing.
If my daughter had been driving that car while under the influence of drugs, I'd be devastated that I'd missed the warning signs. I'd want to tell other parents.
If it were my child, I'd want all her graduating classmates to know what can happen when you make poor choices.
If I were the brokenhearted parents dealing with the loss of their child, mostly what I would want is for it to make a difference, for her life, for her death to mean something.
If it were me, I'd have to tell the story.
I'd be devastated,
but I could not bear to be silent.
If it were my child.
This said, I can't tell you the number of times that I've dropped my head in thankful prayer, that it wasn't, but the silence from her parents is deafening.
I don't judge them.
Honestly, I don't.
But I wish that they would speak.