When your name is on the big screen and you get figures for your shelves, everything seems so easy. Everything isn't bad, it’s not rough, or even horrible. Your names rings out and the waters start to pour. There’s always that pit-of-your-gut feeling that something somewhere other than where you are isn't right. The reason you’re crying won't the reason you will be in less than the amount of time we’re even on this field.

Black shrouds the town when we get home. Off the bus and back to a wreck again. Flowers, cards, and friends show up in the worst way. All while the comfort of strangers won’t ever be the arms of someone that’s not in the room. There’s one less pair of hands around the house, one less smile and one less sound of laughter that’s yet to ring and bounce off the blinding walls of something you think isn't even good enough to be around anymore. And yet, you’re there more. You actually want to be there more. Around dull movement and a closed door to a museum. You think it’s not worth it, but you still sit and stare at it. Hoping a laugh or a ring of a phone will come from behind it. But nothing does.

That room, the walls, that now invisible, distant laughter...it’s all pushed into a forever silence beyond the darkened eyes of the world around you. It’s trapped inside stale pictures and pixelated videos with out-of-shape audio that still manages to let a voice ring out. The voice of an angel, a beautiful angel...her voice rings out and stays in your mind. It’ll never leave you. The echoes of her dark eyes, hues of her red hair, and her state of grace when she’s herself. These are what you’ll miss most. But these are the things you’ll always have with you.