Cassondras cross with one of her deady bears, Stagger Lee. Connie placed him on the cross because he is green, one of Cassy's favourite colors. Now, 9 months later, he is still there and, despite the weather of 9 months, still looks brand new...

The Day My World Stood Still

I would never be the same

Written by Connie Small on November 10, 2000

Monday, November 6th, 2000.

I came home with my oldest daughter, Jennifer. The State Police were waiting for me. They asked my name. I told them. They said they needed to talk to me. I asked them if my kids were o.k. They repeated, "We just need to talk to you." Again, I asked, "Are my kids o.k.?!" She said, "There has been an accident." I begged her to please tell me my kids were o.k. She then said, "There's been an accident. Did your daughter Cassondra know a Brad 'X'?" Fear struck my heart as I told her yes. Again, I begged, "PLEASE, tell me she's o.k.!" The next words I heard were, "There's been a fatality. We need to know the name of Cassondra's dentist." I begged her to tell me my child didn't suffer. She said she didn't. I don't remember anything after that, except screaming "No, God, no! Not my baby!" Jennifer had to answer their questions. Somehow, I ended upstairs in my apartment.

They said the car she was in, hydroplaned. It was raining heavily. Her boyfriend was driving. The car crossed the center line and hit a semi, head on. The car's front seat was pushed over the rear wheels. The top of the car's engine and front bumper, lay at their feet. The coroner said she didn't suffer. She died upon impact. For this small consolation, I thank God. I could not have stood to know my baby had suffered for even a split second.

The car immediately caught fire. By the time help arrived, the rain had extinguished the fire. But the paramedics could tell, there was nothing they could do. My baby was gone.

That night, Jennifer and I went to the scene of the accident. I screamed out Cassy's name, but she didn't answer me. I screamed for her until I couldn't scream anymore. I begged her to answer me. To come out from hiding.

We had to make arrangements at the funeral home the next day. I couldn't see her. They wouldn't let me. They said because of the extent of her injuries, she was in a body bag. I asked if there was just one small spot on her body that I could touch. Again, they said no. I told them I wanted to be with her. They said the body bag was taped shut. I told them I didn't care, I had to be with my baby. They agreed, but made me promise to not unzip the body bag. They covered her with a blanket and led me to her.

They told me at which end her head was. I laid my head on her and cried out her name. I wrapped my arms around her as best I could, held her and rocked her. I held her head in my hands and kissed her. I told her I loved her so much. I told her she was still my baby and would always be. I told her I was so sorry I wasn't able to protect her from this awful accident. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, that I was here now and I would take care of her. What seemed like seconds later, they pulled me away from her. I didn't want to leave my child. I wanted to unzip the body bag and crawl inside and go with her. I begged God to take me too so I could be with her. Instead, He left me here, with my pain.

I went home to endless phone calls and a steady stream of visitors. Everyone said the same thing. "Is there anything I can do?" I told them no, but what I wanted to say, was, "Bring my baby back!"