The wind lightly gusting like the breath of a giant, dark clouds loomed nearer, like the stalker in the night, thunder in the distance sounding like a warning of what lies ahead. Police cars, sitting quietly, waiting for the return of their drivers, who talk inside and comfort. Walking in, the tension was like that of a hospice. The rain began as I entered, like the cue to start the actions of the night to come. The smiles missing from the faces, robbed like a thief in the night. An air of foreboding was everywhere. Soon, I see them, the ones like the grim reaper himself, bringing the news, which no one wants to hear. An accident, four in the hospital, one soon to pass beyond the veil, which is consumed with its greed of life. They pass the responsibility of the vessel, of which the parasitic news calls home, to me. I go to him, to find comfort, a word of hope, a glimmer of good news; none, she won't make it. I go to the silent halls, no longer full of voices and locker slams, but waiting, listening to the tears of the mourning. I go, one by one, to try to give comfort, company, and try to do what I can, for those I know I can do nothing for. I find her, sitting on the stair, crying. She looks up, my emotions overflow. I begin to let the tears escape the prison of my eyes. I sit with her, comfort her, and let her cry on my shoulder. We go outside, to get away from the mourners; the rain has stopped, as if it realized we were coming. Everything was quiet, no birds, no bugs, the cars even seemed faintly dimmed. As if the world was offering its condolences to us. We sit in the silence, we talk, we cry. Of what we discussed is not important, just simply words of hope, of memory, of faith. She returns inside, to help take her part, in the comforting of those who loss. I continued to sit, allowing the quiet and dark to envelope me in a tight embrace. The quiet, the coolness of the fresh rain, just like God Himself saying that everything is OK, and that all is in His control. I now know the answer to the question I asked Him that night. I prayed, I cried, I rested in the peace. I continued back inside, to continue the job of passing the news, comforting, and mourning with others. The score did not matter, the teams did not matter, all that mattered where the ones to which were still close to us. The game ended, I don't think anyone remembered who won, just that we all had lost. I waited in the quiet, the car approached. As once again, I had to bear the bad news. I arrived to the place that was once always filled with joy. But now there was sorrow. As everyone else went to try to put the night behind them for a while, and remember the joy of life. I could not bring myself to join them. So I sat, I prayed, I thought. He came again. He offered comfort and hope. I told him of how I was late, too late to reach someone, and that I needed to get to work, the job that God has charged us all with. He asked me, "So what are you going to do?" I did not know. Then they arrived, joyful and full of energy, but once again we quieted, we talked, we cried, and we prayed. Then as they were leaving, we talked, the three of us sat together, and the two of us went to work. That night, after all the pain and sorrow, there was joy; there was life. I removed my cross, and gave it to her. To remember that day, of what was lost, and what was found. For on that day, December 16, 2006, Taylor Jean Rader, was the last that she would live, but also on that day, Erykah Ann Itakura, started a new life in Jesus Christ.
