A letter to the drivers of South Park Street

I have lost my child. My son. My beautiful boy on the cusp of becoming a man.

by

Opinion

Editor's note: The following, republished with permission, is a letter written and posted to Facebook on Friday, Feb. 6, by Nadya Rosen, the mother of Sasha Rosen, a 17-year-old Madison West High School student who was struck and killed by the driver of a car while he waited for a bus on Thursday, Feb. 5. Readers hoping to honor Sasha's life are encouraged to visit safestreetsforsasha.org.

I have lost my child. My son. My beautiful boy on the cusp of becoming a man. My goofy, music loving, video game playing, baggy pants wearing, espresso drinking, child who could talk to me about Best Rap Album as well as what was going on in the US Congress.

A source of light and love in my life since the moment I learned that I was pregnant. Watching him grow and become his own person was a joy, even as it was painful at times. I won't pretend that being a parent is easy. There are challenges along the way that make it a difficult job, if done well. But to be able to nurture the life of a new person is a gift and for those of us who choose to undertake it, we should feel the weight and joy of that responsibility.

And for those who drive their cars on South Park Street, that is also a responsibility. One that should be taken seriously. Even if you are going to be late for work. Even if you are trying to find the perfect song to stream. Even if you want to send just one more text.

The drivers on South Park Street need to pay more attention. We need to watch the crosswalks. We need to stop for pedestrians. We need to stop when the lights flash at the crosswalk. We need to stop if the car in the other lane stops. We need to not drive in the bus/bike lane. And we need to drive the speed limit. The speed limit on South Park Street is 25 mph. That can feel slow. And it is appropriate.

People who stop at a crosswalk lit up with flashing lights don't kill teenagers who are trying to catch the bus to high school. If all drivers on South Park Street followed those rules, my son would still be here with me, making fun of me being old, and then giving me a massive hug.