It's very strange, the way my mind works. I would watch or read stories about people who had lost their children, and I would cry so hard for them. I would hug my own children tighter to me. I appreciated the fact that there but for the grace of God goes my family.

The strange thing is that in the back of my mind, I thought that I was somehow in God's good graces -- that He would never let something like this happen to my family. After all, I did not take my children for granted. I hugged them and told them I loved them every day. I often thought about how horrible it would be if something happened to one of them, and I hugged them some more.

I did all the "right things." I went to church on Sundays. I did volunteer work. I didn't let my kids roam the streets unsupervised. Bike helmets were an unbreakable rule. Although I didn't realize it until after Raymond died. I somehow thought that all of these things made me immune from tragedy. I was so wrong. Even though I thought I was aware that this could happen to my family. I really wasn't aware at all. I never ever though this would happen to my child.

The mind is a funny thing.