Matthew Engel writes poignantly about the death of his teenaged son.
Halfway through reading it, I realised that I remembered when Laurie was born. At the time, I was friendly with someone who worked with Matthew. She often referred to her colleague Matthew, and it took a while for it to dawn on me who she was talking about. I remember the birth, because of a passing comment she made about holding the fort in Matthew's absence.
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