Death is never easy. Death is hard, unkind, and always sudden. For a reporter, death is supposed to be easy. It's supposed to come and go, with no emotion, no after thought, tell the story and move on, but death, death is never easy. Today a community memeber died and reporting on it is hard. Thinking about it is hard, lose, even with a person I didn't know is hard and when you know every detail and are supposed to report on the situation in an unbiased manner, death becomes harder. But that's what I have to do, make a clean solid story about the death of a women I now know every detail about yet had never spoken to her in my life. It is a curse and a blessing of the job, being able to get all the details. If there were one thing though, one thing that I would tale out of this job, one thing I would never have to think about, write about, or dig into, it would be death. The saddest and hardest part about this one, she didn't have to die. A freak accident caused this one. At least when the person is sick or old, the blow doesn't come as hard, but when it could have been prevented, stopped, changed in some way, death becomes the hardest thing in the world to accept. Today death made a visit to Wilshire Tower, and it come as hard and fast as it could.