At the World Day of Remembrance (WDR), Leanne delivered a heartfelt speech about the loss of her daughter, Lily-May. With her permission, we are honoured to share her moving words with the RoadPeace community.
On Christmas Eve 2004, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. As I looked out into the street, snow began to fall. I felt blessed. I knew my child was going to be extra special — and I was right.
Lily-May was born on 2 September 2005 – the first granddaughter for my parents. Mum was there at her birth, and they shared a magical bond from the very beginning. Lily-May was spoilt rotten with love, just as any granddaughter should be.
I’ll never forget holding her for the first time. Her tiny face peered up at me, her bright blue eyes twinkling. I fell completely in love. She seemed so alert and wise, as if she already knew the world she had entered. She was pure sunshine — warm, funny, unforgettable. She had a glow that lifted everyone around her. She was the light, and we were all drawn to her.
Even as a baby, Lily-May loved to entertain, proudly playing her little keyboard on her first Christmas. As she grew, she became a natural leader — full of imagination, always guiding her cousins and friends into the next adventure.
I thought I was her biggest fan, but really it was her brother, Travis. He adored her. Their bond was unbreakable: two blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauties, just eighteen months apart, doing everything together. Those were precious years. All I ever wanted was to be a mum, and watching my children grow felt magical. I’m grateful I captured so many moments in photos and memories – I just didn’t see the heartbreak ahead.
By seventeen, Lily-May had blossomed into the best version of herself: beautiful, confident, free-spirited. She was happiest out in nature, walking her beloved cocker spaniel, Sadie – her little shadow.
She loved college and was thriving in car bodywork – the only girl on her course, paving the way as always. Her tutors told me how adored she was, always laughing and lifting everyone up. She dreamed of opening her own business one day – a place where women could bring their cars to a skilled female technician.
Lily also had a part-time job at McDonald’s – her “dream job,” she used to say. Despite being so slim, she could devour twenty chicken nuggets without hesitation. She loved the independence it gave her, even if most of her wages went on spoiling Sadie. She had a quirky style, a generous heart, and she loved treating the people she cared about. I treasure the Pandora charm she bought me.
If I could freeze one moment in my life where everything felt right, it would be then. The children were thriving, I loved my work as a teacher, and my partner, Andy, was a wonderful stepdad, idolised by Lily-May and Travis. We felt complete.
I miss hearing the little ‘peep-peep’ of Lily-May’s moped – which she called Shelby – as she pulled onto the drive. She’d burst through the door like a whirlwind, full of laughter, stories, and life. She lit up every room she entered.
Lily-May wasn’t just my daughter; she was my best friend. Even as a toddler, she’d remind me not to forget my handbag. We had countless road trips and shopping days. I worshipped the ground she walked on. We were looking forward to spending half term together – walking Sadie, chatting, just being us.
The last time I saw her, she looked so beautiful. She stood in the kitchen, glowing with happiness. Her boyfriend was picking her up. I told her how lovely she looked, and she hugged me tightly. As always, we said we loved each other.
I can still feel that hug…and then my world shattered.
The next day, I noticed I had a missed call from the police. When I rang back, an officer asked if I was Lily-May’s mum, then told me there had been a collision. I asked if she was hurt. I never imagined the reply:
“It’s worse than that…she’s dead.”
Words no one should ever have to hear.
In that moment, part of me died too. I collapsed to the floor, screaming. My mind broke. The world became unrecognisable. Life has never been the same since.
Lily-May’s boyfriend had been driving dangerously, losing control and crashing into an electricity post. Lily-May died instantly. The shock – the disbelief – was unbearable. I didn’t sleep for two weeks. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the crash. It felt as though the power-cord to my life had been pulled out. I had to relearn how to exist.
In the days that followed, even breathing hurt. It’s against nature for a mother to lose her child – especially at seventeen. I was robbed of the memories we hadn’t yet made. I’ll never see her turn eighteen, start her business, get married, or have children of her own. Planning a funeral for her beautiful soul felt impossible.
But through all the pain, I still feel Lily-May’s love holding me up. The kindness from friends and family became a beacon of hope.
Then RoadPeace stepped in. They scooped me up when I didn’t know where to turn, offering guidance, understanding, and a compassion that only those who’ve walked this terrible path can truly give. They helped me find purpose again.
I learned quickly how broken the justice system can be. The driver who killed my daughter carried on driving, reoffended, and showed no remorse. It took more than two years for the case to reach trial, and even then, the sentence didn’t reflect the worth of my daughter’s life. It certainly didn’t bring comfort. I realised how desperately our sentencing and driving laws need reform.
And I learned something shocking: the most dangerous thing a teenage girl can do is be a passenger in her boyfriend’s car. We fear so many other things, yet hardly ever talk about this.
Newly qualified drivers are four times more likely to crash when carrying peer-aged passengers. It’s a hidden epidemic. Why are parents not told this?
If a law had existed to stop new drivers carrying peer-age passengers, Lily-May would still be here.
So, I stand before you a heartbroken mother – but a mother with a purpose. My love for Lily-May gives me strength. I want others to learn from her story.
I am fighting for change. I want all drivers to understand the responsibility they carry – to value life. I want young girls, in particular, to know that it’s okay to say no, to speak up if they feel unsafe as a passenger. I want to challenge the culture that pushes young people to pass their test quickly, without understanding the risks they face. We cannot be complacent. Behind every statistic is a shattered family.
Through RoadPeace, I’ve met incredible, inspirational people who now feel like family. I am so grateful for their compassion. I want to thank them from the bottom of my heart. I’m especially grateful to Lucy Harrison – my earth angel – who has walked beside me every step of the way.
Lily-May was vibrant, loving – and she should still be full of life. She was stolen from those who adored her, and the ripple of her loss continues every day.
RoadPeace has helped me turn pain into purpose. It has given me a voice I never knew I had. And as a mother, I will never stop fighting for my daughter – for justice, for reform, and for the families who might still be spared this pain.
Thank you for listening. I hope Lily-May now takes up a small space in your heart – and that you carry her story with you. Together, we can make our roads safer and prevent other families from joining this unthinkable club.
All road deaths are needless.
All are preventable.
Please — let’s learn from Lily.
Updated on: 17 December 2025