TORI

Krista and Tori

My daughter called with the terrible news and was sobbing so hard she could barely get the words out, let alone breathe. Her childhood friend, Tori Richeson, had died in a car accident. She was 18 years old.   My breath caught in my throat as I attempted to process what I'd just heard.  Not Tori!  There's just no way this could happen to such a sweet,  beautiful, smart, responsible young woman. Then my daughter said something very insightful for a teenager, "I can only imagine what her mom is going through."  Images of her mom immediately sprang to mind.  Tiny and petite with high cheekbones and a model's figure, she is always cheerful, fun and energetic. I thought of all the times we visited together, herding our daughters through Brownies, Girl Scouts, school activities, birthday parties. 

Tori was their only child and they were a close knit family, always involved in each other’s lives.   Her dad is strong and tall and kind and he and Tori enjoyed snow boarding and surfing together.  My heart goes out to them both.  They were model parents, and a perfect family, attending church, doing all the right things as parents. Tori  was a beautiful young girl with her mom’s happy energy.  So how is this possible and why is this fair?

It’s not.  It’s devastating. It’s another reminder of how quick and fleeting life is and that this could happen to any of us at any time. 

The service was very moving, full of sorrow and tears but also full of love.   It was standing room only; the sanctuary, overflow rooms and entry way were all full, forcing the hasty setting up of chairs outside in the sweltering Ramona sunshine.   A table outside the church held photos, her favorite books and movies, a pair of worn sneakers, her Brownie sash.  A little mini movie of her life, pictures set to music, was displayed on various TV monitors throughout the building.  

The movie started with an infant Tori cradled in the arms of her young, handsome father with her mother smiling beside them.  There is so much hope, joy and innocence when you are a young family.  Your babies need you and nothing bad has happened and you assure yourself nothing ever will. The video progresses through her toddler years, a young school girl going to Brownies and Girl Scouts, hamming it up with friends, her high school prom, snowboarding with her dad, and a candid picture he shot of her recently while surfing.  Tears rolled silently in a constant stream down my cheeks as I listened to the speakers. Her mother spoke eloquently, choking back the tears as she gave tribute to her beautiful daughter she was so proud of.  Her positive energy shone throughout her speech, and she was even able to make us laugh a couple times. I greatly admired her for having the strength and courage to speak and to make her emotions intelligible.   

Tori’s friends also provided some amusing anecdotes as well as attesting to her integrity and wisdom. They said Tori would advise them against doing things they knew they shouldn't, they would do them anyway, get in a lot of trouble, and wish they had listened to their friend.  She would always stand up for others and never say a bad word about anyone.  Her aunt read a heart wrenching poem she wrote for Tori which was printed in the program.  

 

 Her cousin spoke of Tori being annoyed when people compared her to Kristen Stewart.  When her cousin confessed that she also thought she looked like her, Tori scowled and her cousin pointed at her and said, “See! That’s the face!  Stop doing that!”  In the midst of all the overwhelming emotions, these comic relief moments were much appreciated.  I found myself being amused with the TV monitors which seemed to be experiencing technical difficulties.  Instead of showing the person speaking, the camera frequently focused on the light switch or some other random object, then spun wildly around the room - light switch ...  people ... oh there's the speaker! ... and he's gone ... light switch.... - and I started to feel dizzy.  I was standing in a crowd of sweating bodies, fanning myself, beads of sweat trickling attractively down my legs.  I started to sway a little bit and imagined what would happen if I keeled over, knocking my daughter and her friends down with me like dominoes.  She would stare at my lifeless body on the floor and pretend not to know me, and never forgive me for embarrassing her.   

OK, so I didn’t keel over.  I stood there dripping little rivulets, willing myself not to faint, keenly aware that my bodily discomfort was nothing compared to the anguish her parents were experiencing.  After the service, we all drove over to her parents’ house.  There were so many people,both inside and outside in their spacious backyard.  Krista and her friends reminisced about the sleepovers they’d had in Tori’s backyard.   

We came  to comfort Tori’s mom and dad but I think it was the other way around.  It was Shelly and Scott who made us feel better, spending time with each person in their loving and gracious way.  It was nice visiting with Shelly, like old times, as if nothing tragic had just happened.  She is always so warm and bubbly and entertaining.  Scott told me how touched they had been when Krista and two of her friends came to their house the previous weekend to share memories of Tori.  They ended up having a nice visit that was very meaningful for everyone.   

Scott also shared funny stories of typical parent/teenager struggles over simple chores, which made me feel better.  This model family with the ideal teenage daughter still had the same issues we all do at times.  He said how he always told Tori, whenever she left the house, "Drive safe."

We stayed until the sun started going down over the hills, not wanting to leave our friends, not wanting the day to be over, not wanting reality to set in. We half expected to see Tori walk in, to say she hadn’t died after all, wishing for a happy ending.  We drove into a spectacular sunset, a fitting tribute to a beautiful life which, I have to believe, goes on somewhere above us.  Tori is still alive.  We just can’t see her right now.

Drive safe, everyone.