Today -September 14 three years ago is a day I will never forget and probably a time I will grieve for the rest of my life. My dad, Ricky Allen Clark was killed in a motorcycle accident September 14.2007. I wanted to share with you a part of my heart, which I have contemplated over for many months but decided it is a piece of me; I want and need to share. Below is the victim statement I wrote for the court case we had addressing the accident, I had the chance to stand up and share in court what this had done in my life. So I welcome you into a bit of my heart and the person I have become because of this.
Here goes;
Life has been hard since this tragic day. I want 
to tell you first how that night began. I was just four days into a school program called Lifeteams: School of Urban Youth Outreach, as I was watching a movie with my new school mates I was sitting there laughing and enjoying the time. Then my phone rang; it was my sister, thinking to myself, “What does she want? All I want to do is watch this movie”. But as I picked up I realized this was the worst phone call I had ever got in my life, a phone call I knew I would dread, when I heard those starting words, “are you sitting down?” I mean those conversations only happened on TV when something bad is about it happen, not in real life. My sister had to break this news to me, knowing her very well I knew it was bad as I could hear her holding her tears back, and all she had to say was, ” there was a motorcycle accident”. I knew what had happened and I screamed with terror, yelling, “NO! NO!” and broke down; tears came down so strong; an uncontrollable breaking of the heart began. I was inconsolable. I was in so much pain I felt my heart ripping out of my chest- a deep pain that I knew would not go away. I had my schoolmates and teachers by my side supporting me, hugging me and praying for me and my family.
I spent days running to the bathroom, my room, anywhere people were not, to hide and let my heart continue to rip into pieces. I kept telling myself it was a dream, this could not have happened, I love him and still had so much to say. As much as I did not want this to be reality, it was. I remember a few times standing in the bathroom with tears running down my face, a feeling in my heart of heaviness and falling to my knees because it was too much to hold myself up. I began to realize I could not do this on my own and telling the people around, I cannot hide any more- I needed help.
The first week of phone calls started coming in, “are you ok?”, “I am so sorry to hear what happened”, as many people spoke, I became numb, I could not hear it anymore- I knew everyone wanted us (My family and I) to know they cared but nothing anyone said would help- my father had just got killed. I did not know what to do or how to react. The funeral came, people arrived, hug after hug- long sympathetic hugs. All I wanted to do was go and hide and not face reality. My siblings and I sat there at the front, all with tears coming down our faces- wailing in pain.
After the first week I had fewer phone calls and fewer people asking me how I was, facing it on my own. It was really the beginning of it all for me. I realized I was angry, angry I could not say goodbye and tell him I am sorry for not spending more time with him. I prayed for God to help me and show me how to forgive. I truly realized that day the importance of not letting the sun go down while you are still angry– I had to face forgiveness, forgiveness to a man who was gone. I wanted God to just bring him back for one day- just so I could say, “I love you daddy and I am sorry.”
As I relied on God and the people around me, I worked through forgiveness and anger, starting to remember the good things about dad and the memories we shared. That’s when the pain of missing him began. I remembered when dad would braid my hair, brushing gently, and kissing me goodnight with that special dad touch. Also taking me on his Harley Davidson for the afternoon- we did’nt even talk just enjoyed the company, and the ride together- stopping for ice cream or a burger, at some random stop. Dad was a great, he supported me, cared for me, loved me and guided me.
As I continued in school, as I felt I needed to, as dad would say, “live your life; do not let this stop you“. A few day s after this news, I was repelling down a cliff for 
a school activity, I was scared, not really wanting to do it. As I was going down my heart was filled with panic. I was praying for God to help me. Half way down it hit me; I flipped so I was head first and yelled, “THIS IS FOR MY DAD!” From that day, something changed in me. I found adventure, hope, excitement, joy and a journey. I have learned to love adventure- I have gone caving, zip lining, on some of the biggest roller coasters, sky diving, travelled, gone here and there and embraced each moment, doing things I never would have done before- not letting fear conquer me but conquering fear with Gods strength. My dad inspires me every day to live to the fullest. I trust in our God, that he will give me strength to get through. My comfort is in the challenge to live life to the fullest – it is there that I feel the presence of a loving father who helped shape me into the person that I am. My desire for the World Race (11 months, 11 countries) comes from God and an inspiration of my father to dream big and never give up. He has helped shape my life and left a mark in my heart. Even though he is not here, I will never forget him, letting him live on, as an inspiration. I know my dad would be proud of me, I know it.
I remember the day when my sister walked down the isle of her wedding arm in arm with our dad; he had the biggest smile of joy, proud of his daughter Sarah. I know that smile continues as he watches our lives, saying, “look at my kids- they are beautiful, smart and I am so proud of who they are becoming”. My dad was not there for my brother’s wedding to be his best man. My dad will not be there for my wedding day- I have cried many tears over that and it is one thing I still grieve most days. I wanted him so badly to walk me down the aisle, I dreamed of that day – daddy arm in arm with his baby girl proudly giving me away. My dream had to change.
I think about him often, as I travel and see things I am excited about. I remember certain days, memories of my dad. My heart aches and I do not think I will ever understand why? Why him? Why that day? Why dad? But as I told God many times I trust him and love him. I once was walking screaming, yelling at God, not mad at God, but not understanding, I fell to my knees from being weak and asked God to hold me and God showed me that day the heavenly fathers love. I miss my dad’s hugs, unshaven beard that scratched on my face when he gave me a kiss. Some days my emotions are tender and some days go by just trying to live life and some days I hold in my feelings trying not to hurt. You know I had my dad’s phone number in my cell phone for at least a year after his passing, looking at it, wanting to hear his voice and to just call him because I needed his comfort. I had the helmet from his Harley Davidson hanging at my front door- waiting for that phone call, saying, “Let’s go for a ride” and I hold the things he gave me close just so I can remember him. But things are just things, and memories flood my mind when I need a bit of comfort and God holds my hand and reminds me of His heavenly love.
I love him and always will, someday when I have kids they will know his story and the love he had, not being able to meet him but knowing he lives in our hearts. I know he would be proud of me-us- his kids.
