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December seventeenth is a day of sadness.

It is a day of sadness because two years ago, December 17, 2006, my best friend, like a brother to me, died in a plane crash along with his little sister and both their parents.

Shawn Martin was his name. Kitanna was his little sister, a year younger than us. Shawn was always so mischevious, and he always had that goofy grin on his face, no matter what he was doing.

Kitanna had long, pale blond hair. When I think of angels, I see her face. She was the sweetest girl I have ever known. An angel on Earth, her, her brother, and their parents, Lillian and Paul.

Tomorrow is the fated day that two years ago, they died. Even now, my eyes barely are able to hold back the tears that want to be shed. I, among others, have not stopped greiving for the loss of my good friends.

Last year, on December sixteenth, I lit a candle, carrying it up to my room. I stayed up until midnight, when the date changed to the seventeenth, and blew out the candle. To me, the little flame bobbing up and down were the lives that were extinguished.

By blowing out the candle, it had symbolized that the lives had indeed been extinguished. Snow represents cold and silence, but it can aso be a symbol for something else. Sadness, and sorrow.