Every day, twice a day, I drive past the memorial dedicated to Molly Conley on South Lake Stevens Rd. How can anyone pass by and not feel a deep sadness, knowing the tragic, senseless event that took this inspirational young woman from the ones who loved her.
I am touched by the flowers that are ever-present and carefully arranged. It is obvious that Molly’s memory is cherished by many. I feel their pain.
Sadly, not far away, in a cul-de-sac on 119th Dr. there is another such memorial, a simple stone circle with a small tree planted within it.
It was here where Erika Song, a young hard-working mother-to-be was killed much in the same terrible manner as was Molly, only a few short years ago.
I recall how excited Erika was that day, anxious to leave for an ultrasound appointment which would determine the sex of her first child.
I was excited as well. I was sure she would have a boy. I had a nickname for him.
They both died in the street, in front of the house, running in terror from one who once loved her.
It grieves me to see that in leiu of flowers, only trash and cigarette butts adorn the area of Erika’s last moment. A trailer filled with junk completes the scene.
Those of you who chance to read this – as you drive past Molly’s place of remembrance – think also of Erika. Please say a prayer for Erika.