Weeks after losing my daughter in a tragic accident, I was drowning in grief and barely functioning. Then one foggy morning, our dog started acting strangely — and what he led me to changed everything. My name is Erin, 40, and exactly three weeks ago, my world cracked in half.
My 10-year-old daughter, Lily, was killed in a car crash on a rainy Saturday morning. I was reeling with grief a few weeks later, when my dog led me to something that would help with my mourning. 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. Daniel — somehow — survived.
His body was battered, ribs broken, lungs bruised, spine cracked, but he lived. He spent two weeks in the intensive care unit (ICU), half-conscious and hooked to machines. The first time he opened his eyes, he didn’t ask for me or what had happened.
