When I looked down at the waves breaking on the shore, just moments before Rena came into my life, I asked this; “Please send me someone to love.”

I was asking this of my angel. The name ANGEL comes from the word MESSENGER.

Above is a letter Victoria Arnold sent me. When we found each other after twenty-one years, she bid me to come to Los Angeles and look at something with her. That something turned out to be a black box belonging to her father who was stricken with alztymers. Bill’s sister had become ward of her father’s estate. Inside this box were papers concerning Bill’s death. There were pamphlets on suicide, and how parents of a teenager who committed suicide, could cope. Victoria demanded I tell her what these pamphlets meant. She was fifteen when her dear brother died. I remember how this beautiful young girl looked at…