Gone Too Soon

I first became aware of Toni when she sang and danced at a Christmas party at the old Portland 8th Ward. I was ten years old. Toni was nine and had a remarkably strong and mature singing voice for one so young.

We lived in that ward for less than a year, but even after moving we remained in that stake, so I saw Toni occasionally. When I was a senior in high school our family moved back to Toni’s ward. The two of us would have attended the same high school if it hadn’t been for the fact that I wanted to finish my senior year at my old high school in the neighborhood from which we’d moved. So about the only time I ever saw Toni was at seminary and occasionally on Sundays.

That same year I became aware that Toni had two significant friends in her life: Sherri and Brian. Sherri lived just down the street from Toni, had decided to receive the missionary lessons, and she was soon baptized. The two of them hung out a lot together and were active in musical activities at Parkrose High School.

Brian was a good-looking boy whose family moved into our ward from Moses Lake, Washington. After being in the ward for about a year, the parents moved back to Moses Lake. But Brian wanted to finish high school at Parkrose, so arrangements were made for him to live with Toni’s family. I liked Brian. He and I became good friends, and he got a job working at the Dairy Queen with me.

One Saturday night in the spring of 1965, Toni and Sherri were returning home late in Sherri’s small pickup truck. A few blocks from the street where they lived they were approaching an intersection that had a flashing light hanging over the center. For those heading north or south it flashed red, and there was a stop sign. Drivers coming from the east and west had a flashing yellow light.

Because of a thick stand of tall trees it would have been difficult for the girls to see cars coming from their right. I don’t know all the details, but according to information I found on the Internet, Toni’s mother said that the other driver was drunk. When Sherri’s little truck was in the middle of the intersection the other vehicle slammed into them, and the point of impact was right where Toni was seated.

In those days there wasn’t as much emphasis on using seat belts as there is now. In fact, many cars didn’t have seat belts at all. I was told that the force of the impact was so strong that Toni was thrown out of Sherri's door even before Sherri was. Sherri’s injuries, while bad, were not life-threatening. Toni, however, was in very critical condition.

Members of the ward learned of the accident at our church meetings the following morning. By that time Toni was barely clinging to life. The bishop asked that ward members fast and pray for her. By sheer coincidence I was on the program that day as a youth speaker, and I’d been assigned to speak about fasting. I did not have an easy time. When I got to the part of my prepared remarks where I explained how we can fast for those who are sick, I had a hard time controlling my emotions.

That afternoon I drove alone to Woodland Park Hospital, knowing deep inside that there was no way I’d be allowed to see Toni, but I wanted to try. As I expected, the person at the desk said they weren’t allowing any visitors. I tried to find out how she was doing, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. As I said earlier, Toni and I weren’t very close, but I just felt so sad and concerned about her. All I could do was fast and pray.

Two days later Toni passed away. I heard that she’d suffered such massive head trauma that even if she had lived, she would have been in a vegetative state. It was such a shock to all of us. I felt so sorry for her family and for Brian.

My recollection of Toni’s funeral is very vague. I don’t remember who spoke, but I recall that the high school choir that meant so much to her performed there. My family attended the funeral but chose not to go to the cemetery, so I drove there alone. Brian was there. He was one of the pallbearers. He wore a small white flower in the lapel of his suit coat, and after the dedication of the grave, he approached the casket, removed the flower from his coat and kissed it. Then he gently placed it on top of the casket.

I had to go to work that evening at the Dairy Queen. With the cemetery scene fresh in my mind, I had trouble controlling my emotions. I made frequent trips to the restroom to wipe my eyes. It was very hard.

For the balance of that school year Brian continued to live with Toni’s parents, and one of her two older sisters. I always feel a deep sadness whenever I think about those events, and I get emotional just writing about it. Toni was only sixteen. That’s too young for anyone to die. I say that with the full understanding that we came to this earth knowing that accidents and physical and mental impairments were possible. In spite of that knowledge, it’s still hard to say goodbye to someone so young and who had so much to live for.

Some time afterward, I was with a group of youth on a temple trip. I’m not certain which temple it was, but I remember hearing someone in our group remark that when they were in the temple they thought they heard music – like someone singing – and that it sounded like Toni’s voice.