The rain pattered against the window pane. The darkness seemed to envelope the room in its own misery. There were no bright colors, or signs of hope. It seemed as if the contents of that room and the contents of the world outside that window pane had joined in a great conspiracy to prove that loneliness did have its place.

That dreary room was not unlike others of its kind. The rich velvet purple of the couch was not unkind to the emerald green curtains, and the mahogany pieces were only too happy to be amiable to the rest of the room's inhabitants. Oh, I suppose that on any other day the room would be rather pleasant. But, on that melancholy occasion that I was silently ushered into that place it seemed cold and threatening. I did not understand why I had been called to where I was now standing; I had been there only once or twice before in passing. Which made it rather insignificant to me. Yet on that day it had taken on a great personal importance. The man standing before me had chosen that room out of all the rest of more cheerful possibilities.

I slowly gazed out the window, in hope that the falling of rain had ceased. But the heavy drops continued if only to spite me. I looked toward the man standing only inches a way. He seemed a stranger to me, yet I had known him all of my life. The face that had always appeared young and carefree had taken on a weathered and tired look. The lips that always had a smile dancing there were bent into a frown. I looked toward this stranger for guidance. Why was I here? What was I to do now? Before I could ask for answers the man calmly said something almost inaudible. The mere thought of the statement he had just made being true was so inconceivable that I wanted nothing more to push it from my mind. But, the grave look on that stranger's face demanded that that thought be taken seriously, and taken for fact. As I realized that it was true I felt everything that I had ever known come crashing down around me.

It has been said that before one dies one sees their life passing before their eyes. That is what I witnessed. I saw the passing of the life that I had known before that awful encounter in that dreary little room. I saw visions of a happy child who played with a bright and beautiful woman, visions of warm days on the beach, and the heartwarming picture of a small child running from a large swan who had hissed his warning to the tot. In that vision it was the bright and beautiful woman who valiantly chased that cruel swan away so that the little child could once again play with her. As that passing life ended I realized that it was truly that, a passing of life. Days and experiences that I had known were over. It was not possible to go back and change the will of fate, for since that day I have tried many times.

I once again glanced out that window pane. The rain had stopped. A single stream of light shone brightly upon that dark purple velvet. I suddenly felt at peace as I knew the one who was no longer would have wished. I turned my back on that dreary room and solemnly walked through its doors, arm in arm with that stranger who was my father. What had been said could not be changed: my grandmother would not be able to protect me from those vicious swans any longer, yet I knew wherever I was she would be with me. Perhaps that was a great deal of wisdom for the small child of four. But it was only the way her special grandmother had taught her.n