COMMENTARY
Bruce Andriatch: Get ready to read more tragic prom stories
The story is coming. High school students will die in a car crash around the time of a prom or graduation. It happens every spring. It could be as soon as this week, or maybe next month. Maybe it won’t be around here. But maybe it will.
Pray that it’s not your school or district that puts out the word that grief counselors will be available for anyone who needs them, that the flag will fly at half-staff for the rest of the school year.
We will get to know the victims from their yearbook photos and through the sobbing recollections of their friends who have never experienced death before.
“I just saw them yesterday,” one will say.
“We went to kindergarten together,” another will recall. “I can’t believe they’re gone.”
Somewhere in the story, we will read or hear about other young people who were killed in a car crash around prom and graduation season.
There are so many examples.
•••
I can’t remember which daughter it was, but one of them asked if she could drive the car when she was 10 years old. It was hilarious to think of this person behind the wheel.
A few years later, I find myself standing at the window watching them pull out of the driveway and out of my sight, praying silently that they will be careful.
Every time the phone rings, my heart jumps.
•••
It’s strange how quickly your perspective changes.
One day, you’re sitting in a stuffy gymnasium listening to a police officer talk about driving safety and it seems like such a waste of time. You’re just happy that if you have to listen to this for an hour, at least you get to miss pre-calculus.
Then one day, years later, you’re reading about a police officer trying to tell students to please be careful when they’re driving, especially during May and June, and it strikes you as the most important advice you’ve ever heard.
If only there was a way to truly make young drivers understand. If they could actually feel the agony of the siblings left behind. If they could put themselves in their parents’ shoes when the emergency room doctor says, “I’m so sorry.”
If only someone could convince them that they are not immortal.
•••
Brandie Conklin’s parents put their unspeakable grief on display at Eden High School for everyone to see. The car that was the last place their daughter was alive is a mangled wreck and a painful reminder of how and why she died.
The message could not be more clear. Attention, young drivers: This could be you.
“If it can deter somebody from doing the same thing, then it’s worth it,” her father, Wayne Goodridge, told a reporter Friday afternoon.
You hope he’s right. But you also know that many of the kids who looked at that twisted mass of metal had the same thought: “She was texting, and she had been drinking. I would never do that.”
As if those are the only ways someone could die in a car wreck.
As provocative as the image of that car is, it might have resonated even more if Brandie Conklin had done something more innocuous, like speeding, not looking both ways, or missing a stop sign.
All it takes for a tragedy is a split second of not paying attention to the awesome responsibility of driving a car.
We read that story every spring. Please let this year be the exception.
Log into MyBuffalo to post a comment
MyBuffalo is the new social network from Buffalo.com. Your MyBuffalo account lets you comment on and rate stories at buffalonews.com. You can also head over to mybuffalo.com to share your blog posts, stories, photos, and videos with the community. Join now or learn more.
Reader comments
Learn more about our moderation system.