Dear Adam,

Last week we would have celebrated your 29^th birthday. It makes me wonder where ten years went and what might have been.

I can remember the day of your accident vividly. The same way I know exactly what I was doing when Princess Diana was killed, or the day Steve Irwin died.

July 10, 2003 will forever be the day I first drove a European car. The day I returned a top that was too small and drank tea with my parents. This was the day you were taken from us.

You and I were very different. You were cool, popular and fun. You knew people. I was the nerdy girl people avoided. Or copied from. I think maybe we sat together in our German class. Perhaps the teacher put you there, or perhaps it was the only seat left. But either way, we made friends.

My most cherished memory of you is of my debutant ball. While the other girls wondered whether they would go with their boyfriends – depending on whether they were broken up or together that week – you and I were the best of friends and there was never any question of going with someone else.

That day and night is one of the best in my entire life. And I’m grateful to have an album of memories to remember, together with a necklace of green plastic beads that you gave me at some point in our seven-year friendship, that will forever be my reminders of you.

Your funeral was only the second I’d had to attend in my life to that point, but to compare yours to my grandfather, who had lived a full life, is unfair. Your best friend spoke so eloquently – I don’t think I would have been brave enough. I can’t imagine I have ever cried as much as I did that week.

You were funny and smart and clever. You were kind and loving and sweet. Your hugs were famous and your cheeky smile adored by everyone. Which made losing you so much harder.

I miss you.

Sarah

~

Nine and a half years ago, one of my very best friends was killed in a car accident.

Nearly ten years on, and I still miss my friend. I imagine each and every one of you has a similar story to mine – our road toll is too high for everyone not to know someone affected by it.

So I ask you to heed this lesson and slow down. You might think ‘it won’t happen to me’ – but the truth is, it can. The pain of losing a friend or family member is not worth the risks you might take; getting there five minutes earlier; avoiding the major roads or checking your phone on the go.

Because we’d hate to plan your funeral.

#slowdown