They had planned the trip for weeks, arguing playfully over snacks, playlists, and which roadside stops to visit. Photos were taken in the driveway, the kind meant for family albums and holiday cards. No one imagined those smiles would be their last together. On that wet, winding stretch of road, time split into a “before” and an “after” that can never be undone.
Now, the parents wake in hospital beds to a reality more painful than their injuries. Investigators measure skid marks and study weather reports, but no report can explain the weight of two empty beds at home. Friends bring flowers, casseroles, and whispered condolences, knowing nothing they say can fix what’s broken. What remains is a fragile resolve to remember the children not for how they died, but for every bright, ordinary moment they brought to a world that wasn’t ready to let them go.
