Sam Page, 20, Gisbourne, NZ
Can U pic me up? my phone beeped. It was a text from my older sister Sarah, 21, who had been partying in town and needed a lift home.
OK, I texted back.
I was at home in Gisborne, NZ, with my partner Shannon, 30, and our baby, Ryan, five months. I knew if I said no she'd send more texts until I gave in.
Sarah loved driving but she never took her car when she partied - she'd never drink and drive. She'd got her licence as a teenager and loved the freedom it gave her. I was glad she was so careful.
But there was one thing she and all our friends did - including me - and that was text each other while we drove.
'Sarah, don't answer that text while you're driving!' Mum demanded when she was in the car with her once.
'It's fine, Mum. I do it all the time,' she had protested. 'It's very dangerous - just wait until we stop,' Mum insisted.
Sarah was only a year older than me and we were very close. I looked up to her and would do anything for her.
She was lots of fun to be around and she had heaps of friends. She loved to party and go to the beach. She was also a hard worker and enjoyed her job cooking in a local cafe.
A few weeks later, I was driving over to Sarah's house.
R U at home? I'm coming over, I texted as I drove.
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and Shannon was taking care of Ryan, so I was looking forward to hanging out with my sister.
She didn't reply and when I arrived at Sarah's she wasn't there. I waited around and when there was still no word, I decided to go home. There, I received a phone call.
'Is this Sarah Page's sister?' said a man's voice. He was from the local police. 'Your sister has had an accident and she's been taken to hospital.'
'Is she okay?' I cried.
'It would be best if you called the hospital,' he said.
Shaking, I called the hospital where they confirmed that Sarah had been admitted shortly after 4pm that day after crashing her car. In tears, I left a message for Mum, who called the hospital too.
'I've spoken to the hospital and it's not looking good,' she told me when she returned my call soon after.
'Mum, I don't know what to do,' I sobbed. 'Just think good thoughts. Dad and I will meet you there,' she wept.
Mum and Dad flew in from Australia and when we arrived, Sarah was already in surgery.
She had massive brain injuries and they were trying to stabilise her.
As we all waited terrified, for news, many of Sarah's friends arrived in tears. I held Ryan close to me and prayed for my sister.
Finally Sarah came out of theatre and we were allowed to see her in intensive care. She was unconscious and breathing with the help of a machine.
'Oh God,' I cried, collapsing onto the floor. Her face was swollen and there were tubes coming out from everywhere.
I desperately wanted to hold her and tell her I loved her but I was too traumatised. A nurse handed me a paper bag with Sarah's earrings inside.
'Can you look after these for Sarah?' she asked gently. Suddenly, I began to feel dizzy from the grief.
Then the doctor turned to us.
'She's not going to survive. She's brain dead,' he said. 'I'm afraid there's no hope.'
'Oh no, I can't believe this nightmare,' I sobbed.
'She's going to heaven,' Dad said tearfully, pulling me close. I turned to my sister. 'I'm going to miss you Sarah,' I wept.
After we had all said our tearful goodbyes, they turned off her life-support and Sarah left us forever. It was the worst day of my life.
Sarah was an organ donor so she was immediately taken away. Her kidneys, liver and corneas were donated. But her heart was too damaged from the impact - just like my own.
Back home, the police gave us her belongings from the car, including her phone. 'There's a message in the drafts folder,' Mum said tearfully, pressing the button.
We all looked as we read Sarah's final message.
I'm on my way to Napier, the text read.
It had failed to be sent at 3.59pm. She'd written that text seconds before she crashed.
I could see the message I sent to her minutes before, saying I was coming to see her.
'Mum, she was going to send this message to me! Did she die because of it?' I said in tears.
'No love, it wasn't your fault,' she replied, putting her arms around me.
Later, we drove to where Sarah had crashed. She had friends in Napier and regularly drove that road to see them. She had crashed 90 minutes from home. Her friends had already put flowers and a cross beside the road.
'She must have gone off the road, done a U-turn and hit that pole,' Mum wept.
She wasn't speeding or drunk, she was just texting. But it was enough to distract her - and it cost her her life.
Six days after Sarah died we all gathered together to celebrate her life. Over 300 people came, she was so loved. We released 21 pink and black balloons into the air - one for each year of her life - and gave everyone flowers so they could place them on her casket.
We played See You Again by Miley Cyrus, who she secretly admired. The words made me cry. The next time we hang out, I will redeem myself, my heart can't rest till then, I can't wait to see you again...
Later we all took her ashes off the coast of Gisborne and scattered them in the water.
That's my sister, I thought as the dust flew into the air.
It felt so surreal.
The coroner said Sarah died while being distracted sending a text as she was driving, something our friends and I have been getting away with for years. But we don't any more. None of us will ever text and drive again. It only takes a split second while you take your eyes of the road for tragedy to occur, and sending a text is just not worth it.
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