Brittany was my daughter, my heart, and truly my best friend.

She had a light about her, the kind that made people feel safe, loved, and understood. She was funny. Beautiful inside and out. She had a way of bringing people together without even trying. She loved hard. And that's what made her so special.

What most people didn't always see was how deeply she felt everything. She carried so much in her heart. She cared so much about others, often putting them before herself. She was 14 years old when we lost her.

I want people to know that Brittany was so much more than the way she died. She was loved beyond words. She mattered. And her life had purpose.

When we lost her, I had no idea what to do. I was in disbelief. Why did this happen to our family? What did I do wrong? I lost all hope of being able to move on. I knew my surviving children needed me, but the pain was unbearable.

At Brittany's wake, a woman named Emily came up and hugged me. A complete stranger. She said, "I know your pain. I lost my daughter too." She was a volunteer with AFSP. She asked me to come to a meeting. I wasn't ready. She said call me.

A few months later, when I realized I was lost and hopeless, to my family and to myself, I made that call. I went to the meetings. I felt a connection to Brittany again. I wanted to do anything I could to make sure another family didn't go through what we just did.

That was the beginning.

I started with small events. Then one big one. Then came the Blue Angel, named for the light blue Thunderbird our neighbor used to drive past our porch every afternoon. Brittany would sit outside and watch for it. She told me she wanted to own that car one day. That the color matched her eyes. She was eight years old when she said that. She never made it to the age where she could drive. So ten years after we lost her, Phil found the exact car in New Hampshire and brought it home. That's the Blue Angel. That's what you see at the show every year. I drive it knowing Brittany is in the front seat with a smile on her face.

I come back every year because of Brittany. This is how I keep her close to me. This is how I honor her life, not just her loss. Showing up means I'm choosing to turn my pain into purpose. It means I'm standing for her, for others like her, and for every family who has to live with this kind of heartbreak. It gives meaning to something that will never make sense.

If sharing Brittany's story can help even one person feel seen, reach out, or hold on a little longer, then her life continues to make a difference.

Because Brittany was here. She was loved. And she will never be forgotten.

Be kind to one another. You never know what someone is going through.