This evening, Matthew told me that he had written a personal narrative for his English class about the day that Thomas was killed. His teacher was impressed and told him so. But what he said to me was more to the point: he told me that while his class was working on this project, he had looked forward to writing it all day and that he was sorry they had run out of time because he felt that the end was rushed a bit. When I asked if I could read it, he said it would probably make me cry. I pointed out that I would cry anyway and he agreed.

I think that Thomas, who wanted to teach English, would have been proud.