They buried the high school boy yesterday, the one who had died the week before, the "victim" of a drunk driver. I use the quotations because, while he wasn't driving, he was skipping school, drinking with his buddies, and sitting in a car driven by his unlicensed drunk friend. He was 15 years old.
Eldest turns 15 in a blink of an eye, followed in another couple of blinks by Daughter and then Youngest. Before I know it, they'll be the ones out there. I can't sit here at this computer and honestly say I know something similar won't happen to one of them. I don't know. None of us know.
In my mind, there are no solutions to this problem of teens and drinking and driving. Let's face it, all the DARE programs and the Every 15 Minutes assemblies and the drug and alcohol counseling and education done at the schools every single freakin' year doesn't stop it. Maybe, maybe, it curbs it. I'll even say it probably curbs it.
But it doesn't stop it.
Conveying my fears might curb it. Pounding it into the kids' heads might curb it. Might.
He really is a victim, that boy. A victim of youth, of rash decisions, of bad choices. I am so very sorry for his family, for his mother. And I'll be sorry for the next kid's family and mother. And the next. And each time it happens, I'll be relieved that it's not my child.
I came across this video from Australia's Transport Accident Commission. It's a montage of the many PSAs they've run over the past 20 years. It is stunning and it is horrifying.
It will be a nighttime viewing for Eldest tonight.