I live in South Africa, and I used to have four boys, but my eldest, who was only 15-1/2 years old, died in a horrible car accident on April 30, 2000. He was so looking forward to his 16th birthday on July 5. He was in the car with four other kids, and the driver drove 190km/h in a 60km/h zone, lost control and overturned, and the car flew 28 meters in the air. My child was very short and small for his age, and he went out the back window. A passerby who witnessed the accident stopped and tried to resuscitate him, and he started breathing again.

I got a phone call from my friend to say that the driver had just phoned them, and that there'd been an accident, and that I must not worry, my son was fine, and that he had a small cut on his chin. Needless to say, we immediately left to go fetch him ourselves. On the way, I got another phone call from my friend to tell me I had better get to the hospital immediately, it doesn't look too good. I panicked, but never ever in my wildest dreams did I think he was busy dying, after all he only has a cut on his chin!!

We arrived at the trauma unit of the hospital, to find a lot of people there, I asked where my son was, and the doctor said that they were busy with him and that I shouldn't go in there. I asked a lot of questions, and I worried about pajamas for him, just in case they decided to keep him there overnight. I still had no idea how bad it was. Eventually, I was allowed to see him. I walked into the trauma unit, and saw my child lying there, unconscious, his head was swollen, and he had no clothes on, a lot of tubes and stuff. I got a little worried, but said to myself that I am not used to hospital environments, and that he is okay. I asked the staff with him, if he will be all right. They said the next 24 to 48 hours will tell. Strangely, I still did not think about the possibility of him dying. They told me that they are taking him for a CT scan to see where the bleeding is coming from. After about an hour, I went to inquire why they are taking so long. They told me to go upstairs to ICU and wait in the waiting room.

The brain surgeon walked in and asked me if I am his Mom, I answered yes, and then he said to me that he didn't think my child would live. He said he had a "mashed" brain and if, by some miracle, he did survive, he would never be normal again.