Elaine Gordon

On December 19th 2014, my sister Gina died. In fact, she was killed.

The day started like any ordinary day. It was a Friday. I was busy at work on a day shift. One of the ladies at work came up to me. I remember her words so clearly: “Don’t be alarmed, but your Mum is on the phone.” How strange, why would she be calling here, why?

I felt a little panic rising up in me. “What’s happened Mum?” I kept asking her. Finally, she says there’s been a crash. “With whom?” I ask. “Your sister Georgina,” she replied.

I ask my mum: “Where is she, which hospital?” She tells me she doesn’t know.

Mum keeps on saying: “You need to come home, I don’t want to tell you this on the phone.” Then I say the words I dread: “Are you saying that she’s dead?” She won’t answer, she just repeats you need to come home.

The anguish is growing. My colleague, Sarah, puts her arm around me and guides me to the office and brings my bag. I check my phone. Ten missed calls.

I called my sister’s husband, and his first words are: “You’ve heard, I’m sorry.” I scream and shout: “NO, NO, NOT MY SISTER!” He then tells me there was a crash.

Tears are streaming down my face. I can't believe this. My sister, Gina Johnson, was 44-years-old when she was killed. She was on her way to work when a speeding car crossed over onto her side of the road.

It crashed into her car, spinning it around and slamming it into a wall. The driver got out of his car unharmed and ran off. He didn’t call for help. He just ran off back to his girlfriend's house.

Whilst he was running away, Gina’s car caught fire and went up in flames.

We never got to see her again. We never got to hold her hand or speak to her again. The agony of her loss cannot be explained in words. Gina was a daughter, wife, sister, aunt and friend who impacted our family's life.

There is still an empty space that only she can fill. Our lives have never been the same since the day she was taken.

The pain continues. There’s nothing that could ever take that pain away or make it better.