Why Should I Be the One to
Die?
Barrington Brennen, 2007, 2020
Question:
Dear Sir: Recently my teenage daughter was killed by a drunk driver. I miss her
so much. Why does the innocent die?
Answer:
There are no direct answers to your pain. This question has been asked by
psychologists, pastors, parents, medical doctors, Bible prophets and many more
over the centuries. It is just the painful results of a sinful world.
Your
cherished memories of your daughter will sustain you during this time of
mourning. I am certain your daughter loved you, therefore let that thought lift
your heart each day.
Sometime ago I came across a poem (author
unknown) I feel is special at this time and speaks directly to your heart. It is
entitled:
Click here for audio version of the
poem
I Didn’t
Drink And Drive, So Why Am I the One to Die?
I went to the party, Mom, I
remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink,
Mom, so I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud inside,
Mom, the way you said I would.
I didn’t drink and drive,
Mom, even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right
thing, Mom, I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally
ending, Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car, Mom,
I knew I’d get home in one piece.
Because of the way you
raised me, so responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away,
Mom, but as I pulled out into the road,
The other car didn’t see
me, Mom, and hit me like a load.
As I lay there on the
pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say,
The other guy is drunk,
Mom, and now I’m the one who will pay.
I’m lying here dying,
Mom, I wish you’d get here soon.
How could this happen to
me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around
me, Mom, and most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Mom,
I’ll die in a short time.
I just wanted to tell you,
Mom, I swear I didn’t drink.
It was the others, Mom.
That other didn’t think.
He was probably at the same
party as I.
The only difference is, he
drank and I will die.
Why do people drink, Mom?
It can ruin your whole life.
I’m feeling sharp pains
now. Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is
walking, Mom, and I don’t think it’s fair.
I’m lying here dying and
all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry,
Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I pass away, Mom,
put "Daddy’s Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have told
him, Mom, not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him,
Mom, I would still be alive.
My breath is getting short,
Mom, I’m becoming very scared.
Please don’t cry for me,
Mom. When I needed you, you were always here.
I have on last question ,
Mom, before I say good bye.
I didn’t drink and drive,
so why am I the one to die?
