I Was Holding My Son’s T-Shirt When His Teacher Called And Said He Had Left Something Behind

me the room.

For a moment I just held the envelope.

Whatever was inside had come from my son — written in the time before, when he was still alive and still finding ways to be thoughtful in the quiet, sideways manner he had always had. And it was addressed to me. And I was about to open it in a school conference room on a Tuesday afternoon while his continue reading …