After the funeral of my sister Debra, my ears are filled with an eerie revelation that gives my heart solace and assuredness. 

Debra’s girlfriend Simonette says to me softly and reverently, “As Debra and I were walking home from school,” she pauses, “on that fateful day, Debra turned and handed me her Bible. She said something that shocks me now: ‘Take it and read it; get to know the Lord.’ She said, ‘The Bible has changed my life, my brother’s life, and it can change yours, too.’”

Then Debra said something that I thought was very odd. “She told me, ‘I don’t need it anymore.’” Simonette pauses, stares at me, and then continues to speak and sniffle and I can tell she has tears rolling down her face. “The moment I took the Bible from Debra’s hands,” she pauses, and then says slowly, “it was at that instant Debra was struck and killed by that drunken kid.” Simonette says with a sniff, “It . . . it was almost as if . . . it was almost as if she knew she was, was, going to die.”