Like any parent or loved one, I don't really like talking about my daughter's death, but I have to so you can understand my story. I recall Lily buckling her seatbelt, grinning from ear to ear, ready for her weekend art class that fateful morning.
My husband, Daniel, 41, was behind the wheel, promising her hot chocolate afterward if she finished her sunflower sketch.
They never made it.
A pickup truck lost control coming around a wet curve, jumped the divider, and slammed into Daniel's car, crushing the passenger side like a tin can.
My Lily died instantly.
They never made it.
Continued on the next page
