I got the call that morning but I didn't hear it, I heard what they said but I didn't listen and went about my day in a haze of partial consciousness Then a knock was upon the door and some men were there looking to tell me again the grizzly scene. He was found on the floor with his oldest in a cold brick building, bled out on the floor in a puddle of blood. Who made the call I wondered and where was he now. Outside the winter grass wasn't green, they stayed and talked for awhile without saying anything as inquisitive as they were. Then the messenger got into some contraption and took flight. Wondrous flight, acrobatic even but then I overheard them saying I think we have taken his mind off of it for a bit with the flight. Strange I thought. Then the contraption hit some power-lines but was recovered before the impending peril continued to befall yet another. In the darkness I stayed, cold, alone with my thoughts searching aimlessly and needing shelter but still unable to communicate. Another building, still in a fog, the oldest still not found and as people were leaving I held the youngest's hand and in a glance he came to us in his Sunday best, white shirt, clean shaven but somehow thinner. He spoke but only the youngest and I could hear him as he lay there before us, he had that smile, a calm, a happiness, a joy about him. No more pain, I could tell I'd seen it before. Tears fell from our eyes and hit the floor as he lay there smiling and I woke still unsure if it was real...