Have you ever wondered why some things turn out the way they do? Why some stories and movies end so weird, that they leave you almost emotional? Why you're so scared that everyone will hate you when you go to a new place, but, it turns out, everyone loves you? Why nothing ever happens exactly as planned, whether it's better, or worse?

And, why God takes away the person you love more than anyone, at the time you need them the most?

Everyone always tells me He needs them with Him. I hate it when people tell me that. Didn't God ever stop to think that, maybe we need them with us just a little bit more? Everyone always says that God has a plan, and that everything will happen for the good someday. I hate that, too. Right now, his plan pretty much sucks.

I don't know where this is going, I just sat down, and started writing. I have alot to say, too. Stuff I just thought you should know.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. It happened to my grandma three years ago, and my dog just four months ago. It happened to my goldfish yesterday. It happens to everyone. Figured it out, yet? Thought so.

He was the kind of guy that everyone loved. He could make you laugh when you were in the depths of despair. He made the funniest faces, and told the greatest jokes. He was one heck of a singer and dancer, too. He was in a group called Backstreet Boys. Ever heard of them? Probably. They're pretty popular. His blue eyes were always laughing, and there was always beautiful music coming from him. He was never sad, always smiling. I've never seen him cry.

Except once.

Three days ago.

Only fifty-three minutes before I'd never see his laughing blue eyes, or hear his beautiful music - or see him cry - again.

Again, I don't know where this is going, so if I skip from subject to subject, and it doesn't make much sense, I'm sorry. But, my life doesn't make much sense right now.

I didn't want to believe it, I couldn't. It wasn't happening, it couldn't have been. I had just seen him no more than thirty minutes earlier. It was so weird, I didn't know what to feel. I went numb, my tongue went dry in my mouth, the room got dizzy, and I could barely hear what the person on the phone was saying. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision until the room was gone, but they never spilled over. The doctors called what I went through that night shock, but I think it was just something in me dying.

I had just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. He had just left my house about a half hour earlier, after watching Armageddon. That's about the saddest movie in the world, you know? I went to pick up the phone, with a towel wrapped around myself. I picked the phone up after the machine had already started rolling. It recorded the whole conversation. As soon as I heard what the person on the other end of the line said, the towel fell to the ground, my cold, wet hair got even colder on my back, and goosebumps formed all over my body. I wrapped my free arm around myself, not because I was cold, not because I was self-conscious, but because I didn't feel safe. Suddenly, I felt like someone was watching me through a window, or from the stairs, or around the corner, or possibly behind me. And, it really bothered me. Not because I was naked but, because I was scared. I never felt completely safe when he wasn't around.

I said the stupidest thing ever after that. I said I didn't want any, and hung up. Then, I picked up my towel, wrapped it back around myself, and went back into the bathroom. I changed my clothes, calm as ever, trying to be as quiet as I could be. It was stupid, I was the only one in the house. But, I didn't want the person watching me to know where I was. Now, I know you're thinking that sounds really stupid but, that's how I felt after the phone call. Like someone was watching my every move, taping it all, and they were gonna jump out and scream 'you're on candid camera!' any minute. But, no one did.

A few minutes later, my mom came home. I walked into the living room, normal as ever, said hi, and fainted, right at her feet. It was so morbid, I hate myself now for acting that way but, it was like, I wasn't doing it. Like, I was a puppet. Like, I couldn't control what I was doing. I must've scared my mom out of her mind.

When I woke up, I was laying in a bed, with my mom, and my dad standing over me. They were both crying. It scared me. I knew what it was before they said a thing. I got up, and walked over to the bed beside mine, where he was laying. My tears started as soon as I saw him, in so much pain, so bruised and battered.

"Brian?" I whispered, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He smiled when he saw me.

"Heather," he breathed. "You're here."

"I had no choice," I said. "I fainted." He laughed, but then groaned in pain. He was barely conscious. I was trying to be strong but, he looked so innocent, and sweet, I couldn't. I broke down, and fell to my knees beside his bed. "Oh, Brian! How could you do this to me? Please don't leave me!"

"I won't leave you, Heather," he whispered. "I will always be with you. I'll protect you. When I die, I'll be your guardian angel."

"Now, Mr. Littrell, don't talk like that," the doctor said. "We're gonna get you through this. We're taking you into surgery in a minute. You'll recover."

"No, I won't," Brian said, smiling. "I know more than you think. Don't think that I can't feel all the broken bones. I know how much damage the crash caused. More than you can fix. And, I'm ready. I'm not scared."

"No, Brian," I sobbed. "I'm not ready. I'm so scared. I need you."

"I know," Brian whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered back.

"I want you to have my ring," Brian said. "I know how much you love it." I nodded. I did love that ring. It was senior class ring. He had had it only a few years. I always told him I wanted it, and I was always wearing it. He told me someday, when the time was right, and I was ready, he'd give it to me. I always asked him when that time would. He just said I'd know when it came.

He was right, I knew, and the time was right. But, he was wrong about one thing - I wasn't ready.

"I guess I have to go, now," he said, and then kissed my hand. "I love you."

"I love you, Brian," I whispered, and kissed his cheek right before the nurse rolled him away into the OR.

I guess you've figured out what happened. He died during surgery. His heart couldn't take the trauma.

The crash was caused by a drunk driver. It was a hit and run. They never found the guy.

After the doctor told us the news, I looked at the ring on my finger, kissed it, and walked out the door of the hospital. My parents didn't stop me, they knew where I was going. Our Hill.

Our Hill was only a few miles from the hospital. It was our place. We always met there in the morning to watch the sun rise, and we met there to watch it set every night. We always did it together. Now, I would have to do it alone.

When I got to the Hill, I sat down, and cried silently, watching the sun set as I twisted the ring on my finger. It was too big, but I couldn't bare to change it. I couldn't get it fitted - it wouldn't be right.

As the sun turned from orange and red and yellow to purple and pink and blue, the fact that I was watching such a beautiful thing alone sent a chill down my spine, and more tears came. I knew then what I had to do. That would be the first and last time I ever watched a sunset alone.

It was a simple request, one that was easily met. Brian was buried on the top of Our Hill. Beside where I always sit. Right where he always sat. We had a simple, small funeral - no one but a few close friends, and immediate family. A simple cross was his headstone. And, this simple message was engraved on it:

Brian Thomas Littrell

February 20, 1975 - April 16, 1999

Though his life was short, it was full, and as his was, so he made everyone's life he met. Full of love, compassion, care, and beauty, but not without his dark side, he was the perfect example of what a human should be like. We love you, B-Rok. Peace.

I felt Brian's presence at the funeral, and it felt good. He is my guardian angel, I know it. His arms are always wrapped around me, protecting me, just like they were before.

To tell you the truth, at his funeral was only the second time I had ever seen a man cry. Not counting television, 'cause that's not real. I saw seven men cry that day. My dad - who had been like a second dad to Brian - Brian's dad, Brian's brother, and Brian's best friends and bandmates - Nick, Kevin, Howie, and A.J. I knew it was a rare thing to see tough, rough, rebel A.J. cry, but it felt good, as weird as that sounds. He isn't as tough as everyone thinks.

No one is.

But, like I said, I often wonder about the way and reason things happen, but I haven't figured out why this happened yet. But I will. And Brian will help.

-Email Tabitha