How do I begin to tell you about Dana and all that she meant to my life? A writer can describe spring in technical terms; the scent of cherry blossoms awakening from their long winter's sleep; the first whiff of honeysuckle in the air; and the bright cool promise of the sun before it turns harsh in summer. Through some gift from God, perhaps he is able to imbue it so vividly for the reader that they can envision spring in all its loveliness. But can he ever truly capture on paper that feeling of spring in his heart? How could he find words to describe the rush of joy his heart feels at discovering life can be beautiful? Could the poetry of his prose ever paint a feeling, or recount his soul's wistfulness that when this moment passes, life will never be as beautiful again? All I can say is that is how I felt the first time I saw her.