Ten years later, the day of Colgan’s funeral was still permanently seared into my brain. Of all the people watching that day, there was one whose opinion I never doubted—Michael Toomey. As I headed up U.S. 72 into the southeast Tennessee hills to see him, I understood why Brother Michael had retreated from the world. The man had suffered more loss than any one person should ever have to deal with.

That story that I almost told at the funeral? Even though I said it was one that Brother Michael should tell, I have never actually heard him tell it. Colgan was the one that was always so proud of how his parents met. I could still hear him telling the story in that overly dramatic movie narrator voice.

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