Recently, my friend Michael Rowland sent me a letter. The letter was prompted, he said, by a column I wrote. Here is part of that letter:

“The pregnancy was hard. Illness, countless tests, strict bed rest and weeks confined to a hospital bed all tempered the joy of expecting our first children. The twins arrived three months prematurely early in the evening on a cold night on Jan. 6 — Epiphany.

“The bigger, stronger boy named James weighed in a bit over 2 lbs. His twin, Charles, didn’t even break the 2 lb. mark. A few days later, I sat by Virginia in the NICU as my wife gently held James as he died from a brain hemorrhage, as our friend and priest Father Joe Porter quietly recited the 23rd Psalm.