The videos we have seen these past few days often use personal stories to provide evidence of just how difficult losing a friend or family member to a drunken driver can be. What makes this type of death so tragic is that it comes so suddenly. There is never time to prepare your heart for such a loss. The stories are designed to make you think, to help you realize how destructive one decision can become, how devastating the loss of a loved one is felt. But perhaps watching a story on video couldn't possibly convey the hurt a person feels when someone is taken from them so tragically.
People grieve in different manners. Part of the grieving process includes ultimately a healing process. I lost a young friend from my church in 1989, before most of you were even born. She was killed in a head on collision with a drunken teenage driver. Part of my healing process has been to put down my memories and thoughts about my friend on paper. She was buried on Valentine's Day, so I have entitled our story "Julie's Valentine."
My friend Julie was on her way home from basketball practice late on February 2,1989. Millbrook High School, where she was a member of the junior class, had gotten out of school early to allow for teacher workshops. Since it was a nice afternoon and they had little else to do, a group of students Julie did not know decided to throw a little beer party at the lake near her neighborhood. One of them had to leave early to go to work, so a fellow named Jon took him. Jon was 16, and he dragged his 13- year old brother, who was partying with them, along for the ride. As fate would have it, they met Julie on the way back to their party.
Funny, the things you remember about people you have loved and lost. When I was teaching at East Millbrook, Julie was a student there for three years. The student council used to sponsor a candy gram Valentine sale, where you could send candy and a Valentine note to a friend. Julie never forgot me! For each of the three years we were there together, I received a candy gram from her. I still have those notes, along with several other cards and letters she sent me over the years. She was somewhat shy about talking sometimes, but she sent a lot of cards and notes, and they always seem to come at the right time. I still keep a few of the special notes in my Bible.
They met Julie head on, Jon and his brother, at close to 70 miles per hour, in a blind curve on Possum Track Rd. near Falls Lake. Julie had taken her normal route home following basketball practice, and she was a little more than a mile from her house when the accident occurred. At her basketball game the night before, she had scored her first 2 points of the season, a baseline jumper that was nothing but net! Julie played basketball all three years she was at Millbrook. She was never a star, pretty much just a benchwarmer, so she was very excited about scoring. She still had her practice gear on for the ride home after practice.
The Highway Patrol officer that investigated the collision told her family the force of impact had knocked her out of her basketball shoes. The front end of Julie's Honda Prelude caved in, crushing her ankles and lower legs. The steering wheel was driven into her abdomen, causing severe internal injuries to her lungs, heart, and liver. Her head slammed into the windshield, which fractured her skull, causing a severe brain trauma and massive swelling. Jon and his thirteen-year-old brother were killed instantly. The Highway Patrol officer investigating the collision reported that Jon was killed as the steering wheel of his car was driven straight through his chest. Their car flipped over Julie's and landed in a ditch on the other side of the road, where it caught fire and consumed the two boys. Jon's little brother was thrown into the windshield and perished in the fire that consumed the vehicle.
Julie had to be cut out of her car. She lost consciousness immediately, but was pinned in the car. Emergency technicians and firemen did all they could to save her life. She was transported to Wake Medical Center, where emergency surgery was conducted to relieve the stress and swelling involved caused by her brain injury. Julie survived in a coma in the Intensive Care Unit at Wake Medical Center for 9 more days.
Those nine days were unbearable for me. I was at home when a woman from church called and told me Julie had been in a bad accident. I rushed to Wake Medical Center and joined an anxious and distraught group of Julie's friends and classmates. Initial reports from her doctors were not good. I remember meeting in a large waiting area that night along with what seemed like hundreds of Julie's friends and listening to a doctor list all her injuries. Her ankles were crushed and would need surgery, her pelvis was broken, and all her internal organs had been damaged. However, these injuries were secondary to her head injuries, which required immediate attention. To relieve the swelling of her brain, holes were drilled into her skull. We were horrified but what Julie had to face.
Julie and I met at church. Our families attended the same church, and I had known Julie since she was in elementary school. I also served as a youth leader and I taught her brother in Sunday School. One of my first memories of her was how she used to lead her brother by hand to and from Sunday School. I was struck by the love I felt between her and her little brother as I watched them together. Through the next few years, I became friends with Julie and her family. While she was in middle school, I spent time with her on Sunday nights at youth activities and on Wednesday nights at our weekly church dinner. We had a ritual, Julie and I. Every week; I would try to help her with her homework prior to our Wednesday night youth meetings. We never got much done, because all we did was talk and laugh. Julie had become a good friend!
Following several hours of surgery that first night, Julie was moved to an Intensive Care Unit for patients with neurological injuries. Her other injuries did not appear life threatening, but her brain injury was. When your brain swells, it has nowhere to go. You can tell when an ankle sprain swells, and watch as the ankle gets bigger. Imagine the same pressure inside your skull. As that pressure increases, it does increasingly more damage to the brain. That is what Julie had to battle. She was not allowed visitors, except for her family, and then for only about 10 minutes every few hours. We received reports from her family following these visits, and I took the job of reporting any news to her friends.
I may have forgotten what her voice sounded like over these last fifteen years, and sometimes I can't hear her laugh anymore. But there are still little things about her I remember so well! Maybe I will see something or someone who reminds me of her. This happens often when I shake hands with people. For you see, Julie always had sweaty palms. I mean, always! I would tease her about it, and it became a little inside joke between us. Her sweaty palms were a unique thing that made her even more special to me. I told her it was because she had such a warm heart! Even now, if I shake someone's hand with sweaty palms, I automatically think about Julie.
After a few days and nights-nights I spent sleeping on the waiting room floor- Julie's brain pressure subsided. It was just a small reduction, but enough to renew our hope. Julie's mom, Dru, asked me if I wanted to see her. I could feel my heart in my throat and my tears welling up as she led me into the NICU. There were tubes and machines everywhere. Julie was still in a deep coma, and the machines were doing all her brains work. But her palms were clear, and they were still moist! As I held her hand and sent up a prayer for my friend, it was hard to imagine the life she would lead if she did survive. The sight of her in the NICU frightened me, and I was soon praying that God would ease her pain. I whispered in her ear that I loved her and I was praying for her, and then I kissed her cheek and left.
Julie died on February 11th, nine days after her accident. The brain injury was just too severe. The decision to take her off the respirator that was controlling her breathing came from her parents. Prior to doing this, the doctors allowed the family in to say good-bye. Knowing this would be their last visit, and knowing how much Julie meant to me, her mother invited me in also for a final visit. What an honor and privilege I felt had been given me. One last chance to visit my friend! All the tubes had now been removed, save the tube from the respirator. I can still hear the sounds that machine made as it breathed for her. "It's over, it's over" the machine seemed to be saying. I held her hand and kissed her cheek one last time, and left as her family stayed behind. The respirator was shut down. Julie was no longer able to breathe on her own, and she died.
Julie was buried on Valentine's Day. She rests on a hill between two trees. I was a pallbearer that day, one of the men who carried her casket to the grave. The night before, at the funeral home, I led many of her friends to their last visit with her. The church was filled for her funeral. Many of her friends had to sit in an adjacent fellowship hall, the same one where we had enjoyed dinner on Wednesday nights with our friend. We listened as our minister and her family eulogized our friend, and we wept.
I have used Julie's memory and her death in many ways. During lessons on impaired driving in Driver's Ed class, I tell her story. Often, I drive students into the curve where she had her accident, and I point out the cross her friends placed there. I have shared how experiencing her tragic death has changed me, and Julie has become a large part of my Christian testimony.
While painful, this experience has taught me. I believe I am a better person for having known Julie Elizabeth McClelland (March 19, 1972- February 11, 1989). I have been able to share my faith more, and I am less afraid to show my faith. I went through a period where I was mad at God for taking my friend, but that didn't last long. The prayer vigils and waiting room conversations I had with kids during her hospital stay helped me overcome any discomfort I had about sharing my faith. My decision to become a Driver's Ed teacher is a direct result of Julie's death, too. I wanted to do what I could to help prevent more teens from dying due to the careless and reckless attitudes of other teens that drive while impaired.
Recently, an incident involving friends from my church youth group was brought to my attention. A group of guys was out partying following a school dance, and caught a ride with a friend who had too much to drink. I took this a little hard, and confronted the guys. I told them how I still hurt from her death, how after 15 years I still could not put away her pictures. I did not want to go through that again. Julie helped me out that night, and if I can use her death to help change lives, if I can honor her memory in any way, I will.
I still think about my friend Julie. EVERY DAY!! EVERY SINGLE DAY!! I cannot begin to tell you how much I miss her. Each morning, I walk by a plaque her parents gave the school with a picture of her in her basketball uniform. It is located in the trophy case near the gym. I also keep a picture of Julie on my desk.
Coach Jeff Wooten, Raleigh, N.C.
