L.C.

I didn't write this- my daughter Hannah did. LC committed suicide just over two years ago. Hannah's tribute to her makes me laugh and breaks my heart at the same time.


For Louisa Caroline (LC) Wagley
December 27, 1982-October 27, 2005

During the four or five years when LC and I were really close, she did a lot of damage to my car. Some of it was completely her fault, some I can’t totally blame on her. Junior year LC, Karla, my brother Jake, and I left a school dance to drive around the area. LC thought it would be funny to drive my car around the parking lot while me and Jake ran into a store. Everything was going smoothly until she confused the gas pedal with the brake and crashed into a tree. The whole hood was crunched in and there was a huge spider web crack in the windshield. At this point I’d only known LC for a couple of months, but that was long enough to know that her impulsiveness often got her into trouble. Needless to say, I was incredibly mad at her. “Oh, my God, Hannah! Oh my God! I am so sorry!” I knew LC felt terrible, but I was angry so I didn’t say anything the whole way back to school. “Hannah, seriously, you can punch me in the face if you want to!” For some reason, she really wanted me to hit her. By the time I dropped her and Karla off she was practically begging, “Hannah, please, just punch me in the face.” As I was driving away, Jake pointed out the giant dent in the windshield from the impact of LC’s head.
Other damage to my car was more minor, or at least, less dramatic. There are dozens of cigarette burns on the inside roof from our drives around Simsbury or New Haven, and I don’t smoke. LC also had a way of making a mess: spilling coffee, leaving notebooks and magazines and clothes behind, not to mention a permanent nicotine smell that my dad was complained about. “No smoking in the car” he’d say, but how could I obey him? I felt bad ignoring his rule, but even though I wasn’t technically addicted, I needed those smoking drives as much as she did.
Our road trips and a summer driving all over Nantucket helped pile up over 200,000 miles and a mass of random clothes and garbage (mostly from LC) in my humble Toyota Camry.
But I always felt that car loved us. It had been through everything, including a few unmentioned idiotic accidents that I take complete responsibility for, and it still managed to get us all the way from New Orleans to Panama City Beach Florida (not the most happening place in mid-January) on one tank of gas. We also drove to cross country meets and tennis matches and New York City and the car never failed us. Even after a seemingly debilitating accident, the Camry always managed to get us to our ultimate destination or back to school where we should have been in the first place.
As crazy as it sounds, given our accident history, I keep thinking that somehow, if we just stayed in the Camry, I could have held onto her. I keep thinking about those days with me behind the wheel and LC riding shotgun. I am so grateful to have shared the wild adventures, and I know those memories are safe. I only regret that we never made it far enough so we could look back together and laugh at all the amazing things we dared to do.