Thomas hadn’t known about that night, of course.

His letter had come from a different moment.

Its wisdom was ordinary rather than prophetic, which somehow made it more comforting.

I framed the letter and placed it near my little painting table.

When Daniel visited, I showed it to him.

He read slowly, blinking hard at the final lines.

“He knew we’d have trouble?” he asked.

“He knew people struggle to let each other grow,” I said.