My parents skipped the funeral of my husband and two children because it was my sister’s birthday. When I begged them to come, my father calmly said,

ash from the accident scene still stained my hands.

My husband, Ethan Miller, and our two children, Lily, seven, and Noah, four, d:ied that morning on Interstate 95 outside Richmond, Virginia. A truck driver had fallen asleep, crossed the median, and crushed their SUV before Ethan had any chance to swerve.

I survived because I had not been with them.continue reading …