Words seems inconsequential when discussing the death of a young man

It never crossed my mind.

Not even for a second did I think about writing anything here last week on this subject.

I knew Nick Adenhart as well as I did "the others," as so many newspapers reported their three deaths, which is to say we never met. I only knew the three of them as kids, gone by no fault of their own, and was privately stewing about it.

And then came an e-mail from Ty Cesene, a newspaper reader, and who knew there were folks out there still counting on a newspaper.

"Where the hell were you on the Adenhart tragedy?" he wrote. "You and Plaschke both silent when a whole city could use your words to express our pain and confusion for us. Both of you missing when you are finally needed.

"Maybe it is why newspapers are going broke. You are no longer contributors to the social reality. Do you think Jim Murray would have been speechless now? No. This was a time to turn off the computer and pull out your typewriter, a time to use your talents for something other than playing Manny's straight-man.

"A young kid, three young kids, were put to rest before an entire city with no one giving a proper eulogy. Shame added to tragedy."

For the most part, I disagree. There are those grieving the loss of Adenhart, Courtney Stewart and Henry Pearson who knew those kids intimately, and who have and will continue to deliver the proper eulogies.

I'm saddened by such news like everyone else, but wrote nothing because I am just as angry and afraid as I'm sorry for the loss of three people I never met -- each of their deaths striking so close to home.

If Adenhart had never put on an Angels uniform, or pitched in front of so many the night he died, he would be just like Stewart and Pearson -- who so many of us know now only as Adenhart's friends.

Yet they all shared one thing in common: They were still just kids, and most of us are parents -- until the day we die.

And so when Adenhart, Stewart and Pearson were killed, beyond the shock, my initial thoughts were with the parents of Adenhart, Stewart and Pearson, and the safety of my own kids.

Is there anything more important in our lives than the good health of our own children?

How much do we do to make sure they remain safe, only to be reminded by something such as this -- we're powerless to guarantee such a thing?

And that's frightening. Maybe we all worry about losing our jobs in this day and age, but there's always a chance of getting another -- so long as they never read Page 2.