You really wouldn't have known, right away, that it was his mother in the casket. Twenty nine years old, she died by her own hand, they are saying. Nobody seems to be sure. And M., my little 12 year old man, showed his homeroom teacher and me, his social studies teacher, around the funeral home today, introducing us here and there. He did not break down, not until the very last minute at the gravesite. When I asked with whom he would be living now that his mother was gone, he answered, "Tonight with my real dad, then I don't know." It broke my heart. If you are a praying person, please say a prayer for this boy, M. He's way too young for all of this.