It’s that time of year again. In just a few weeks, high-school seniors will don caps and gowns, walk up to a podium and reach out for that piece of paper that ultimately represents freedom, accomplishment and tradition.
In the weeks leading up to graduation, with marching practices and finals, one night provides a respite from the pressure and jitters of transitioning from students to young men and women.
Senior Prom.
That one night, with expensive gowns and tuxes, corsages, limos and dancing can represent for some the first time their parents let go of their leashes just a tad and pray they’ve taught their daughters and sons well. For the parents, prom is the first time they come face to face with their children growing into adults.
I remember that phase in my own life so distinctly. With so much living ahead of me, everything changing all at once and the prospect of starting to live on my own just around the corner there was an undeniable electricity in the air. Like the majority of 18-year-olds, the thought of my life being altered or cut short quite simply didn’t exist in my mind.
The world held every possibility, all I had to do was follow its lead. I felt like I could fly.
Yet every year it seems as though just when life is just about to take off, one gets snuffed out way too soon for a kid at a time that should represent beginnings, not endings.
Last Sunday, on Mother’s Day, I was traveling south on the Payne Road in Scarborough and passed by a group of evidently distraught teenage kids standing around a make-shift memorial in an embankment on the side of the road. Close by, a yellow “caution” tape was strung from the trees to a road sign. As I passed, I watched one young girl break away from the group and walk away alone, arms tightly wrapped around her as though she was trying to hold herself from falling apart.
At the time I had no idea what was going on, but watching that young girl tore at my heart strings. Please, someone tell me no one got hurt there.
When I got home and turned on the news my fears proved true. According to reports, a young man named Steven Delano had just finished taking pictures at his home in Scarborough with his best friend and two girls who attended Gorham High School. The foursome were on their way to Gorham High’s senior prom, being held at the Italian Heritage Center in Portland.
After leaving Delano’s home, he drove west on the Holmes Road toward Gorham to pick up some forgotten prom tickets. However, when he crossed the Payne Road, the car he was driving was broadsided by an empty jet-fuel tanker that was traveling north on Payne Road. His car was pushed 100 feet and landed, upside-down, in an embankment.
His three passengers were expected to make full recoveries from their injuries. Delano wasn’t so lucky. He died later that night from injuries sustained in the accident.
Only the night before Delano’s tragic accident, I sat and watched my eldest step-daughter have her hair done for her own senior prom. It struck me at the time how bizarre it was to see her preparing to attend such a monumental right of passage. Although I hadn’t been in her life since day one, it still seemed surreal that she was so grown up.
Later on that evening, after we had taken pictures of her all dressed up and beautiful and laughing at how nervous she was (even though she whole-heartedly denied it) I prayed she would make it home safe and sound.
I can not imagine what young Delano’s parents must be feeling now. To have their son robbed from them at such an early age is unthinkable. No parent should ever have to watch their babies lowered in the ground. It’s not right. It’s against everything we know and are programmed to believe.
As much as my heart goes out to the Delano family, another concern now is for the other three kids who were riding right next Steven in the moments before his death. The three survivors of that crash will never forget those final moments of his life.
I hope, over time, they’ll find a way to cope with such a tragedy. How traumatic that must have been for them at such a memorable time in their lives. The unfortunate reality is life has no guarantee and even the youngest and strongest of us aren’t invincible.
— Elizabeth Reilly can be reached at elizabethreilly1@yahoo.com.
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