Allyson, thank you. Both for everything you've done and will do for her family, and for giving us the story. I see no callous there, and I'm so grateful we all have you right now.

This. And if it's OK, if you need to, we've got you.

Plei, I think it would be a good thing to have; I suspect there are more Buffistas yet to trickle in.

Thank you, all of you. I don't know what I can do to help, but if there's anything, I'll do it.

Allyson, thank you so much for coming here to share that information with us. I am so sorry that you had to make that call.

Allyson, many thanks to you and Paula and Kristen and Burrell. You all had to go through something horrifying, but it comforts me to know ita had all of you there.

Goodness, Allyson, it's anything other than callous - it's caring and loving and emotional and feeling-to-the-bottom-of-the-heart.

I'm sorry you had to make this horrible horrible call to ita's family, but I'm sure it was a comfort of a sort (as such a thing is possible in such a situation) to know that people who cared about her daughter and loved her so dearly were as there for her as is possible.

Thank you. Thank you, Allyson, and Kristen and Paula and burrell. Thank you for being there, and for being there for us who are geographically far away, as well. I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could make things in any way a bit easier for you.

I wish I could be a better friend. I realize I can't be physically present, so I wish that I could at least be a better Internet friend.

And yet, I'm going to log off soon.

The children are due back home any minute, and I have to go pretending it's a regular evening (it won't work. PiBoy will notice I'm not myself, and I have no idea what to tell him, if at all. I'm sorry, I'm making this all meMeME -he's already quite bothered by the whole subject of death, having lost two grandfathers before he was two-and-a-quarter years old. And the not-baby-anymore - I have no idea how she'll react to my teary eyes, but I'm pretty sure she'll notice, as well).

I don't know what to write. Just, - oh, I don't know. I just don't. Sorry.

My heart hurts. I went to make some chai, thinking I had chai, and I didn't. And I thought I was having a tea emergency and ita would know what to do in a tea emergency.

I am so so sorry, Allyson. But I am glad she had board family in town to check on her and to call her family. Getting that call is devastating but I would rather her parents got the call from you rather than the police.

Allyson, as others have said, nobody is qualified to make that call. If there's anyone I would trust to handle this horrible situation with as much grace and competence as possible, it's you. Take care of yourself.

Thank you, again, to all the LAistas who helped ita and watched over her. And, I don't know...peaceful thoughts to her family, blood and via circumstance, flesh and virtual.

Allyson, thank you for the update. I am so glad that ita had friends nearby to check in on her.

Let's face it: this just sucks and I am not capable of expressing how much it sucks.

Allyson, I'm SO glad you've posted; I've been very worried about you all morning. I had to find a friend's body in college and call her parents and there's NO GOOD WAY to do it. You were fine. You cared, and you were there, and they were lucky to have someone who loved her make the call, not some cop or ME. They knew that her friends were with her to make sure she was treated with the respect she deserved.

If you ever, ever, ever, need to talk, I am here for you, day or night.

Much love to all who had to go through that horrid, wrenching experience last nights. You are my heroes.

Betsy, that Millay poem is my favorite poem with regards to mourning:

Dirge Without Music

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.