Oh, Dearest Mother, Sweetest Virgin of Altagracia, our Patroness. You are our Advocate and to you we recommend our needs. You are our Teacher and like disciples we come to learn from the example of your holy life. You are our Mother, and like children, we come to offer you all of the love of our hearts. Receive, dearest Mother, our offerings and listen attentively to our supplications. Amen.



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Cindy Mac
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Posted: Jan 09 2006 at 11:26am | IP Logged Quote Cindy Mac

I was wondering if I could ask you ladies to pray for me on Wednesday, January 11th around 6pm EST. I'm going to be participating in a Victim Impact Panel. I will be speaking to 1st and 2nd time drunk driving offenders about the impact a drunk driver had on my life. Please pray that my words will touch their hearts and lead them to make better decisions in the future so that other people will not have to endure the heartache that my family has been put through. I speak at these panels every month or so - it's scary to see how many people are there each month. I've posted the particulars about what happened to me before but if you want to hear, please feel free to ask me. Thanks for your prayers.

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Jen L.
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Posted: Jan 09 2006 at 4:06pm | IP Logged Quote Jen L.

Thank you for speaking to these people.

I will pray for you. I will pray for the offenders hearts to be touched so that they will NEVER endanger another.

I know this must be a really hard time of year for your family. (I will also pray for them. :-)



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JennGM
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Posted: Jan 09 2006 at 4:42pm | IP Logged Quote JennGM

I will pray for the Holy Spirit and their guardian angels to open their hearts to hear what you have to say. It's so good you are doing this!

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Cindy Mac
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Posted: Jan 11 2006 at 10:39pm | IP Logged Quote Cindy Mac

Thank you for all of your prayers - I felt strengthened while speaking this evening. I ended my normal speech with an essay that my sister Kellie has written for her college applications. She was 3 when the crash happened, and it was her twin brother Brian who was killed. I'll attach it so that you can read it. It's kind of long, but worth the read.



The dark night sky was lit up with the flashing red and white lights of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances. The soft patter of rain was drowned out by the wail of sirens. It was two days after Christmas. My twin brother, Brian and I were three years and 24 days old and something had gone terribly wrong. Moments ago we were in Publix grocery store with our big sister, Cindy. As we left the store, the rain began to fall. Cindy rushed us to the car and buckled us in the back. We left the parking lot and turned left to go home. Suddenly there was an earsplitting noise and the car went spinning in circles.

        We had been hit on the passenger side by a drunk driver. The impact of the crash had broken the car in half. When I opened my eyes, I could see Brian leaning towards me. I was crying, but he wasn’t. A man crawled into the back of the car and said something, but I was too scared to understand. People came and they took Brian out of the car, but I could not see where they took him.

           I was covered with glass and imprisoned in a sharp, jagged cage of steel, which had been the rear door of the car. I wanted my mommy, I wanted my Brian – where was he? We had never been apart more than a minute or two and now I couldn’t see him. There was a tremendous ripping sound as the firemen cut me out of the car. Gentle hands lifted me from the wreck and placed me on a stretcher. I could see my mommy’s face. She looked scared as she held my hand and told me how much she loved me. The people said we had to go, and they put me in a helicopter. I’m scared, I’m hurt and I’m alone. Where is Brian?

            The darkness of the helicopter was replaced by the bright light of the trauma unit. Doctors and nurses were everywhere. I wanted to go home. Suddenly, there was my mommy, holding my hand again and telling me to be brave. There were tears on her face. The doctor took her hand and told her that she could go, and that he promised that they would take care of me. Where was she going? Don’t leave me here. Where is Brian?

           The glaring lights of the trauma room were replaced by the dim lights of the ICU. Monitors were flashing, beeping, tubes and wires were all over my body. Gradually I could hear the voices of my family – Cindy and Lori, my big brother Michael, and Mommy and Daddy. They were all there, talking softly and kissing me gently, but someone was missing and something seemed terribly wrong. That night I woke up screaming and the nurses got my mommy to calm me down.

            Morning finally came and I was taken to the OR for multiple surgeries. When I woke up, I was back in the ICU. Familiar people came and went, reading to me, singing to me, trying to comfort me when I cried. I was never left alone and yet I was alone, all by myself without Brian. Why wasn’t he here?

            A few days later, I was moved to the pediatric ward where people continued to visit. One day my mommy said she had to leave and I cried and screamed, “Don’t go, don’t leave me here!” She told me that she had to go to the bathroom and that seemed okay to me, but she didn’t come back until the next day. She looked very tired and very sad, but she never left me again.

           Finally, the day arrived that we left the hospital and went home. Daddy carried me inside and I looked all around, seeing all the familiar furniture, the dogs, my brother and sisters, but I continued searching for something that was missing. “Where is Brian?” I asked. But nobody answered me. They just kept giving me cookies and milk, ignoring my question. “Where is Brian?” I persisted. My mommy said that he wasn’t here right now. This satisfied me for a short while.

             I wanted to go to our room to look for him, but I couldn’t walk by myself; I couldn’t even sit up or roll over. My shattered elbow was held in place with pins and screws, my pelvis was fractured and I had 92 stitches in my head. When I insisted I had to go to our room, Daddy carried me there. I looked around at all our things – our beds and toys, our books and clothes, but he wasn’t there. I was so confused; where could he be?

        My first three nights at home were like a nightmare. I slept between my parents, but would wake up screaming as though I was in great pain. Mommy would cradle me and rock me until I would eventually fall asleep, only to wake up screaming minutes later. Cindy tried letting me sleep on her chest as she lay on the sofa, but even this did not end the screaming.

        On my fourth day at home, my mommy carried me into our room and sat with me on my pink bed. She held me close and said in a very soft voice, “Kellie, Brian is not here because he had to go to God’s house.” I thought about that and then asked her if he had his blue bed at God’s house. She smiled, kissed me on the head and said that she was sure that he did.

        That night I slept in my own bed. I did not wake up screaming. My mind was at ease; I had my answer. I knew where he was. Brian was at God’s house.

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Jen L.
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Posted: Jan 11 2006 at 11:17pm | IP Logged Quote Jen L.

Thanks for posting this, Cindy. I'm glad tonight went well. Still praying.
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teachingmom
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Posted: Jan 11 2006 at 11:19pm | IP Logged Quote teachingmom

Wow. What a powerful essay. I am so sorry to learn what you and your parents and siblings had to go through, Cindy. I cannot imagine the pain for all of you. May God use your words to help those drunk drivers to have a conversion of heart and life.

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Erica Sanchez
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Posted: Jan 12 2006 at 11:07am | IP Logged Quote Erica Sanchez

Thank you for sharing this, Cindy. And thank you for taking the time to speak to these groups.

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Victoria in AZ
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Posted: Jan 21 2006 at 1:23pm | IP Logged Quote Victoria in AZ

Cindy, I'm a bit delayed replying here, but wanted to be sure to express my sympathy in your family's devastating loss of Brian's life. Thank you for sharing Kellie's essay and the pain your family will always experience so needlessly but for someone else's selfish decision to drink and drive. You are generous to continue participating in a Victim Impact Panel.

God bless your work. You have a reunion to look forward to.

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