Hi, my name's Summer and It will be three weeks tomorrow that I was killed in a road traffic accident along Green Street near where I live.
It's funny, the way life can turn out so unexpectedly. I've often felt that your life has a set course, that maybe somewhere sombody is watching over you, guiding you in the right direction while allowing you to find your own way of getting there. I'm not so sure this is true anymore.
I was 27 at the time I had my accident. I'd dropped off my daughter, India, the most amazing gift I could ever of hoped for, my little miracle. She was 3 weeks premature you see and was a figher from the word go. Her father Marcus had walked out on us when I was just 6 months pregant and hasn't wanted to be a part of her life since. He was younger than me and the thought of rasing a child at just 18 was to much for him to take. And how did I feel? Scared, worried I'd do something wrong with every new task, constantly afraid that what I was doing wasn't the way my mother would have done it.
I hadn't thought of him until the moment I crossed over, when I felt that rush of memories and feelings that ran through me like an electric shock and he's been on my mind ever since.