That November day in 2004 began like so many others: off to early Mass, breakfast at Sparky’s Diner, and then on to work. It started taking a different turn late in the morning, when my son Tom called, asking that I drive him to a doctor’s appointment. I can still see Tom, sitting in the hospital bed with tears flowing down his face, trying to comprehend this. All of us were stunned. We just couldn’t believe that such a thing was happening to a thirty-three-year-old man who was otherwise active and healthy, just at the start of his life.