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Tears rolled down the reporter's face as she hung up the phone Monday evening.

"Who were you talking with?" I asked.

"The family," she said.

"Oh."

What else was there to say? Such profound loss cascades upon all who come close.

I went home a short time later to have dinner with my family. As I drove home, I thought about our two children, both students at West, who probably knew Austin Davis. For their own sake, I hoped not well. Our daughter already had endured the loss of a close friend three years earlier.

Before dinner, we started talking immediately about the inexplicable death of a 16-year-old. "Did you notice how quiet the halls were after the announcement?" our son said.

"That's how it was for Alyssa, too," his older sister recalled.

Our daughter couldn't believe it was Austin, the sweet, quiet boy who sat next to her most of the year in history class. "He was a good kid, Dad," she said simply -- she's a junior, and he was a sophomore.

His death didn't seem real somehow, she said. Our kids didn't know how to react to the loss. Who does? What do you tell them?

The table where Austin sits will be empty Tuesday during history class. The lives of his family will be empty forever. That's the risk we all take when we love.

He was a good kid. With a good life ahead of him, surely. You dream of what your children will become. You hope for so much for them.

Why bring so much pain to one family? To one community already dealing with the loss of a 4-year-old? Why?

The reporter wrote a heart-wrenching, beautiful story Tuesday about Austin. He and his father shared a love of baseball. The Warriors will play later Tuesday in his honor.

Love.

Sorrow.

Anger.

The words come up short.