My name is Jacqueline DeMoreaux, and I am sixteen.  I live in Tampa Bay, Florida, with my step-mother, dad, and my step brothers Carey, Michael, and Rance, who are 13, 11, and seven.  

My real mom died when I was ten, almost six years ago.  I miss her so much!  She died while walking home from work; a drunken driver struck her.  Mom was critically injured; she died while in the hospital.  I don't like to talk about it; it still causes me great pain.

I have not forgiven the man or woman who did this to my family.  I've tried to, but the truth of the matter is this: I can't.  I.  Just.  Can't.  Not right now!  Maybe one day, but not now.  Doesn't help the anniversary date is coming up.  Mom died on Holy Saturday, the day before Easter, and the day after Good Friday.  So I am not very fond about Easter time.

People call me Airhead because they say I'm stupid.  I have ADD and I have lots of trouble concentrating in school, especially when I think about mom or read about death/dying.  I also have dyslexia and have problems reading books geared for teens my age.  I'm happiest reading books for eight to eleven year olds, just as long as they don't have to do with death or dying.

I'm also blond.  They think I'm one of the dumbest things on the planet.  They tease me and call me horrible names, and then my step-mom and my dad wonder why I don't want to go to school most mornings.  Well, there you go.  Now you know why school in itself is always such a hassle.

Church is also a hassle.  I don't even bother going: I don't want to do anything with God right now, or even Jesus.  Mom is with them, and meanwhile my step-brothers, my father,  and I are left behind, to fend for ouselves.  Step-mom is in the picture too, and she's okay, but the fact of the matter is this: she is NOT my real mom.  My real mom is dead.  D-E-A-D.  Nothing or nobody can ever bring her back.  And it's all because of some stupid jerkoff who couldn't put the bottle down, then decided to go driving after going on a bender.

Angry?  Perhaps.  No, I AM angry.  I'm angry at the g.d. person who wrecked my life as I knew it, and now I still have nightmares about it!  I still see mom lying broken and unconscious in Intensive Care, the doctors shaking their heads in despair, and then hearing them say the difficult words: "There is nothing more we can do to help her."  I also see dad's anguished face as he makes the hard decision to "pull the plug", so mom can be put out of her misery.  

There was no hope for her.  Absolutely none.  I tried to pray to God and Jesus, but nothing was done.  NOTHING.  So right now I am mad at them too because they could have saved her or prevented the accident from happening in the first damn place!!

Well, I'm crying again.  Seems that is all I ever do, epecially since the six-year anniversary date is coming up.  Mom is all I can think about, and I still miss her as much now as on the day we found out she died!!!!

I sometimes wish it was ME that died instead of mom!! She didn't deserve to go like she did!!  :(

To be continued.