The first one was Houston. That was in April 2002. It doesn't seem that long ago really. God, it's been more than 2 1/2 years. It wasn't the Beast's first loss.

Growing up, and even still, making friends has been a very easy thing for my daughter. She's a natural. She gives far more than she receives. She listens well. She compromises. She's fun. It wasn't that way for her twin brother, Finchie. He had 2 friends growing up, two good solid best friends. She had many. A pattern started to emerge that was very troubling, right around the time she was 9 or so. It seemed as though every time one of these friends became an important part of her every day life, someone she counted on being there day in and day out, they moved away. Literally. The family packed up, sold their house, and they moved. And they always moved far away. I watched this happen at least half a dozen times. Each time was harder than the last. By the last one, I think I cried as hard as she did. She finally was able to hang on to her current best friend. It's been a very long time since anyone went far away from her.

Until Houston.

That was the first one who went away forever. It hit me hard, knowing someone that young had died. But I hadn't seen him in a while, he wasn't part of my every day life, so after the immediate impact, I went on with little ado.

Then something else started happening. Eldest was in a car accident, fairly serious although he wasn't too damaged physically. He suddenly was a very nervous passenger though. And it seemed to rub off on the Beast. She was even less interested in getting her license, and just preferred to walk or take the train to wherever she wanted to go.

And then this past summer, late in the summer, I got a phone call from the emergency room. I saw it on the caller I.D. She had been in an accident. She'd been in the back seat when her driver tried to make a left turn onto a busy highway and they were "T-boned" on her side of the car by an oncoming car that must have been in the driver's blind spot. She was limping with a probable sprained ankle, but everyone was ok. I saw an immediate increase in her anxiety. I took care not to make sudden turns, not to "take chances" as she called it, even though I have a nearly spotless driving record because I DON'T take chances. I tried to get her to take control by driving and at the same time tried to minimize her fears.

Then on the morning of Halloween, I got another call from the same number. Another T-Bone incident, this one resulting in her transport to the hospital via ambulance. On the surface, she was more upset over the fact that the paramedics cut her jeans to tend to her bloody leg than anything else, but I knew she was shaken badly. So was the other back seat passenger whose skateboard flew through the air, resulting in the the worst injury of the day, 78 stitches in his head. And the driver, Jake, unhurt, was feeling very responsible, so much so that he came by later in the day to apologize to me. I assured him that accidents happen and that I was just so thankful that no one else had been seriously hurt. Physically. Beast's fear of driving became even worse, sometimes resulting in stomach aches during unavoidable auto transport.

About 3 weeks ago, she called me at work from school, hysterical. A young man with whom she sometimes hung out had been found dead on the railroad tracks of a nearby town. After several days, we learned that he had likely been walking the rails, and tried to climb through two freight train cars, part of a train that had been idle for too long for an impatient youth. Somehow he must have lost his footing and fell back, his neck hitting the rail, snapping and killing him instantly. Another friend gone. Forever. Among the teenage mourners who sat at my kitchen table drinking tea and hot chocolate was Andrew, a neighbor with whom Beast has a very good friendship. He looks after her, and escorts her when she walks across town instead of taking a ride.

These stories melded together last night, solidified this morning.

When I got home from work yesterday, Andrew was again at our table. He looked so very glum. When he left, I was informed that his girlfriend had broken up with him. Poor thing. So after a bit, Beast went to his house and hung out with him and his friends Joey and Jake. She got home at about 8:30, and I went to bed not long after that. Some time around midnight she was at my bedside crying. Andrew, she'd been told, had been in an accident and had broken his pelvis. I'm sorry to say that my immediate reaction sounded angry. I mean What The HELL! What's with the freaking car accidents? Assuming that a broken pelvis while serious, was not death, I calmed her and we went to bed. When I took her to school this morning, we talked about the rehab in front of Andrew. In the morning she fretted about not hearing anything about Jake or Joey and I told her that no one ever calls with news that someone is safe, they just call with the bad news. I dropped her off at school, and I went on to work.

I wasn't there long before I saw the school number pop up on my caller I.D. I had a few co-workers in my office and made some kind of comment about how I was pretty certain that this couldn't be good news. God.

"Mom?" She was sobbing. "Joey's dead!"

I just kind of wigged out. I told her to call MOTH, who happened to be home, for a ride home and then I hung up. And I think I screamed. I know I cried. What the hell is going on? Why are all of these children dying? And why do they have to be friends of my daughter? Why is she losing people she cares about? How much is she supposed to endure before she is a complete wreck? Hell, I am a wreck and I'm not close to these guys.

Joey is dead. Forever. Andrew was air-lifted to Loyola, and that makes me very nervous because we have a pretty good trauma hospital right here, so I'm praying very hard that the pelvis is the only thing going on with him. Jake sustained minimal damage, and there is some discrepancy as to exactly who was behind the wheel. The official report has Joey behind the wheel. Booze has been ruled out, but there was pot in the car.

I remember the most gut wrenching line in one of my favorite movies, "The Rose."

"Where's everybody going?"

Indeed.

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