Emojis left us in bits
It was just a harmless emoji, but it left our family completely shattered
Nina Price, 40, Brecon
As my mum Diana pulled on her coat, my chest ached. I was just 6 years old, loved my mum so much. ‘See you later, my little shadow,’ she smiled, blowing me a kiss. Mum worked nights at a crisp factory, was a sales advisor by day. A single mum, she worked hard to provide for me and my brother Adrian, then 7. It’d been just the three of us for a very long time. Though I was used to staying with my grandparents while Mum worked, it was never easy saying goodbye. When she was home, I followed her around, imitating her laugh and voice. Breathing her in. We didn’t have a lot of cash, but Mum treated us to weekends in the caravan, trips to the beach. Blissful memories I snapped on my camera and kept in an album.
Mum crammed our childhoods with love, and I reckoned she deserved love of her own more than anyone.
So when she met Tony, I was thrilled. I was just 12, but I could see it was the real deal.
And sure enough, they got married in 1993.
I left home at 20, but it didn’t weaken our bond. When my daughter Leah arrived in April 2004, Mum was my birthing partner. And when my relationship with Leah’s dad broke down three years later… ‘Move in with us for a while,’ Mum offered. ‘Love to,’ I replied. The scent of Mum’s lemon drizzle cake drifting through the house took me back to when I was a little girl.
Old habits were hard to break. I nabbed a piece of Mum’s delicious cake when she wasn’t watching.
Even decades later, Mum still danced madly round to Phil Collins songs.
Reliving my childhood in the best of ways, being home with Mum made my heartache melt away. And Leah adored her, too. When I got back on my feet, I moved a few doors down. Met my partner Gwilym and had our Jessica in January 2013.
‘My gorgeous babies!’ Mum cooed, holding Jess in one arm, twirling Leah round like a ballerina with the other. She’d been the perfect mum, now she was the perfect grandma.
Baking and playing games with the girls, looking after them so me and Gwilym could go out. They adored her.
Mum now worked as a nurse, as well as caring for her elderly dad Ken. If we ever stole a few hours together, we’d nip to the charity shops. I’d come home with bags of goodies and my belly aching from laughing.
But a month before Christmas 2016, I lost my job.
The timing couldn’t have been more rotten. I went to Mum’s, feeling devastated. ‘Here you go,
Mum crammed our childhoods with love
sweetheart,’ Mum said softly, pressing a wad of cash into my hand and cuddling me. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ I cried. And I meant it. Thanks to Mum, our Christmas was looking brighter. Jessica and I were putting up the decorations three days later when Gwilym flew through the door, eyes wide with panic. ‘What’s wrong?’ I said. ‘It’s your mum,’ he blurted out. ‘I’m so sorry, she’s been in a crash, she hasn’t made it, she’s… dead.’ The bauble I’d been holding crashed to the floor. I felt myself falling too, the air whooshing out of my lungs. ‘It must be some kind of mistake,’ I whimpered. But when we rushed to Mum’s house, the look on Tony’s face stopped me in the doorway. I’d never seen him look so sad. A broken man. Tony confirmed Mum had been driving back from looking after her dad. Another driver had smashed into her, killing her instantly. I couldn’t believe my lovely mum was really gone. When the police arrived, they brought us Mum’s handbag. Inside, I felt shards of glass from the car windows, nestled with her purse and phone. I knew then it was true. At Nevill Hall Hospital in Abergavenny, I had to identify Mum’s body. It was the worst moment of my life. ‘Oh, Mum,’ I cried, gently stroking her ice-cold hand.
We arranged Mum’s funeral, picking her favourite Phil Collins song.
Mum’s empty seat at Christmas dinner felt like a white-hot poker through my heart. Her loss had left a void that could never, ever be filled.
In time, a woman was arrested and charged.
Finally, in October 2018, we sat in court, hoping to learn exactly what had happened.
Gemma Evans, 23, had been driving her black BMW Mini on a straight stretch of road that dark winter morning.
Evans claimed her phone had been in the car’s cup holder, that she hadn’t used it during her journey.
But police had evidence from road-side cameras.
The court heard Evans exchanged messages with a friend on Whatsapp and Facebook. Made arrangements for a night out while she drove at 50mph on a dark morning.
Signing off her messages with a ‘cheeky monkey’ and ‘thumbs-up’ emoji, Evans’ texting had led to the crash.
Her Mini had veered into the wrong lane, smashed into Mum.
Evans denied the charge of death by dangerous driving but admitted the lesser charge of death by careless driving. She was jailed for just six months, banned from the roads for three years.
That’s not justice for Mum, or for everything we’ve lost. We feel robbed.
Evans has apologised but she has no idea of the trauma she’s caused our family. She gets to go home to her loved ones. But Mum’s never coming back to us.
Evans made her choice with her careless actions behind the wheel. And that choice shattered our family forever.
Her loss has left a void that can never be filled