Recently I decided to make an effort … to set a goal … to overcome my issues with my daughter’s death. Did you hear that? I said her death. Britt’s death. For the longest time I only referred to it as “Britt’s accident”. And it was an accident. A horrible accident.
A single vehicle rollover on the Cajon Pass. My daughter died on the I-15 freeway in Devore. I didn’t even know where Devore was. I do now.
It was a Tuesday. I arrived home in the early afternoon and the coroner was waiting for me.” Where is she,” I asked. “She didn’t make it,” he said. He knocked the wind out of me. He took my life away.
She was seventeen years old. Eighteen days short of her eighteenth birthday. She loved life. She was happy. She was vibrant. She was truly unforgettable and I remember her each and every day. Every. Single. Day.
The above photo is on her headstone. Our grand kids call it a tombstone. They think she’s buried in a graveyard. Too much Halloween at our house. I wish the grands could have known Britt. Not just through my memories. Or through their father’s memories. Britt was … is … their father’s baby sister.
Britt had just started college. She was on the cheer squad. She had cheered in high school and worked hard to make the squad in college. Because she was an athlete, she registered early. She got her first choice of classes. She was excited. I was excited for her.
She was attending school three days a week. She only cheered at the first two football games of the season. One home game and one away game. The third game was played in her honor. Our entire family went to all the games. We were proud. Very proud.
Neither drinking or drugs were involved the day of Britt’s death, nor any other day in her life. She wasn’t using a cell phone. She simply wasn’t paying attention. She lost control of her car. The car we had given her for graduation. High school graduation. I wish we hadn’t given it to her.
I’m thankful that no one else was hurt the day Britt died. Thankful her baby brother Todd wasn’t with her. Thankful her boyfriend wasn’t driving. I believe it was Britt’s time. I have faith in God. I have faith that He has a bigger plan for Britt. Perhaps she was even on borrowed time. She had been beating Myasthenia Gravis since her diagnosis at the age of five. Britt was a fighter.
Britt was my only daughter. We were best friends. There’s music that reminds me of her. Music that pushes me over the edge. I avoid this music. I make no exceptions.
I know I will never get over the loss of my daughter. I never will. But I will overcome the issues her death has left me with. And issues I have. As I said in Reflections, the pain never goes away. It just changes. Not for better. Not for worse. It simply changes.
This is the Britt I remember. Happy. Smiling. Laughing. Britt loved her brothers. Very, very much. She loved people. She loved life.
Britt Leanna Mobley is my daughter. She was born October 17, 1979. Britt died on September 30, 1997. It’s been 14 years. It feels like it was yesterday. I can still hear her voice. I can still feel her touch. I can feel her presence.
If she walked in the door … I would hold her close. I would tell her how much I love her. I would never let go.
All photos are from Britt’s senior portrait session 5 months before her
accident death. They may not be used or reproduced without written permission.