My youngest child is a beautiful, smart Junior at the University of South Carolina. Her biggest fear in the world is being kidnapped.   When she was young, she insisted that the tooth fairy leave any money or prize on the kitchen table in exchange for her tooth, and she made me swear that I would not let the tooth fairy come into her room.   Her fear is real, and I have always known it.

Last Thursday I watched every parent’s nightmare unfold when a beautiful, smart Senior at the University of South Carolina was kidnapped and killed.   She was doing what so many beautiful, smart students at the University of South Carolina – and colleges across the country – do on a Thursday night.   She was hanging out with friends in a bar and decided to go home by herself.   It happens all the time.   All.  The.  Time.    The next day, while I was texting back and forth with my daughter, who was safe in her home just blocks from where this horrible nightmare took place, she said to me the words that I will never forget.   “She must have been so scared.”    I lose my breath thinking about that.

Samantha Josephson had called an uber, and when the black sedan pulled up to the curb where she was standing, she just jumped in.   It happens all the time.  I accidentally watched the video of her getting into the car, and I am not going to lie.  I vomited.   I thought I was going to zoom in on a picture, but I watched in horror as a beautiful girl, very much alive, disappeared into hell.   And then I just cried, and I cried, and I cried.

Pain is pain.  It all hurts.  I have learned over the years that we can’t compare or minimize or maximize it.  When we hurt, we hurt.   But there is no way to describe the pain of a parent who loses a child.   Sadly, I do know that pain.  When most of us become parents, our wiring changes.   We find the strength to do things we never thought we could, for reasons we never thought would move us, and with the speed and force we never thought possible.   We become wired to protect, defend, lift and nurture.   We would gladly give our own lives or limbs or organs to save our children.   It is who we are.    So when I saw someone’s beautiful, smart daughter get into a car that I already knew was taking her permanently away, I crashed.

I will never get over that, and I am the least of those impacted.    I pray almost hourly for her mother, her father and her family and friends.    There are no words that adequately express what I want to say about my sadness and heartache for them.  I get angry even trying to put it into words because I can’t find any words that really work.

I will never get over seeing that beautiful, smart Senior named Samantha Josephson get into that car, but what I WILL do is make sure that my own children and whatever friends are in earshot when I talk to them understand why they have to be vigilant.    My family uses Find My Friends, and I unashamedly admit to you that I track where they are whenever I feel like looking them up.   I don’t apologize for that and they are used to it.    When they pop up somewhere that seems odd to me, I send them a text.   And if they don’t answer, I text their friends.   You can call it stalking if you want, but my children are still too naive and I am going to do better with that.   Their uber accounts are tied to MY credit card and I know exactly when they are Ubering.   I am happy to pay for their sober rides, but I know now that we need to talk more about safely using Uber and about how Uber might keep drunk people from driving, but it can’t help drunk people make good decisions or defend themselves when they are alone.

I have had conversations with my children about the dangers of texting and driving, about not taking drinks from strangers, about making sure your phone is charged, about not parking in scary places, about traveling in groups, about not getting so drunk you are unable to take care of yourself, about helping strangers without compromising your safety.    I have talked to them until they are rolling their eyes at what they probably call my paranoia or hysteria.

The reality is, we can never talk to our children enough about these things.    There will always be that situation we did not see coming.   There is always something more to say or teach.  And it makes me sick that it takes tragedy to get their attention sometimes.

I took my beautiful, smart girl and some of her friends to dinner in Columbia last night.  She lives near 5 Points, and as we rode near the bar area on our way to the restaurant, I told them that the whole area was different for me now.  My life has been forever impacted by what many would call a routine Thursday night in a college town.    At dinner, we talked about Samantha, about how they have to do better, about how they are so incredibly lucky nothing has happened to them so far.   We talked about things they will be doing differently in the future when they are out, especially if they are drinking.   We talked about apps on phones that might help.   We talked about sharing locations on phones so that people can know where you are.    And the entire time we were talking, my heart was breaking for a family that will not be able to talk to their daughter like this again.

I believe in Heaven, and I believe in eternal life and eternal peace.   But I am not kidding myself about my time here.    Peace is hard to come by some days, especially for those of us who are parents.  I will be even more committed to preparing my children to live prosperously in a world with so much evil against them.   I will never forget this tragedy that literally struck so close to home.   And I will never forget the name of the beautiful, smart Senior at the University of South Carolina whose tragic story will make me an even better parent.    Forever to thee, Samantha Josephson.