This evening, I rode BART home as usual with my friend, Wanda. Usually, we browse a magazine together, or gossip about work. Shortly after we sat down, a mother sat across from us with her two children. They were young, about the same age as my goddaughter and her little brother. They were adorable - they smiled at us, and tugged at each other. Without a word, the tears started to roll down both our eyes. She asked me, plaintively, desparately, "haven't you got anything to read?" I rummaged through my bag furiously, before giving up. I put my arm around her, and whispered, "I know," and she squeezed my arm back.

I spent most of the day calling mutual friends, bearing the bad news and relaying information about events to come. It gets harder every time I have to break the news. I keep thinking that this isn't real, this isn't happening. This isn't supposed to happen.

I didn't sleep at all last night, thinking of her. I remember all the visits, all the times I was at their house playing with her and her brother. I remember feeling that I didn't spend enough time with her as I should, but it would be okay, since she had many years of childhood ahead of her. I remember looking forward to her future, and watching her grow up, and wondering what she would be like.

Those hopes are gone now. I have yet to really feel their loss. I get the sense that I will be feeling them for years to come.

This weekend is going to be so hard.