One day a teacher asked her students to list the names
 of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper,
 leaving a space between each name.
 
 Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could
 say about each of their classmates and write it down.
 
 It took the remainder of the class period to finish their
 assignment, and as the students left the room, each one
 handed in the papers.
 
 That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each
 student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what
 everyone else had said about that individual.
 
 On Monday she gave each student his or her list.  Before
 long, the entire class was smiling.  "Really?" she heard
 whispered.  "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!"
 and, "I didn't know others liked me so much," were most of
 the comments.
 
 No one ever mentioned those papers in class again.  She
 never knew if they discussed them after class or with
 their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had
 accomplished its purpose.
 
 The students were happy with themselves and one another.
 That group of students moved on.  Several years later,
 one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher
 attended the funeral of that special student.
 
 She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin
 before. He looked so handsome, so mature.
 
 The church was packed with his friends. One by one
 those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin.
 The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.
 As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted
 as pallbearer came up to her.
 
 "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked.
 She nodded: "yes."
 
 Then he said:  "Mark talked about you a lot."
 After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates
 went together to a luncheon.  Mark's mother and
 father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his
 teacher.
 
 "We want to show you something," his father said,
 taking a wallet out of his pocket.  "They found this
 on Mark when he was killed.  We thought you might
 recognize it."
 
 Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn
 pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been
 taped, folded and refolded many times.
 
 The teacher knew without looking that the papers
 were the ones on which she had listed all the good
 things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.
 
 "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother
 said.  "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
 
 All of Mark's former class mates started to gather around.
 Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still
 have my list It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."
 
 Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our
 wedding album."
 "I have mine too," Marilyn said.  "It's in my diary."
 Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her
 pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn
 and frazzled list to the group.  "I carry this with
 me at all times, " Vicki said and without batting an eyelash,
 she continued:  "I think we all saved our lists."
 
 That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried.
 She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would
 never see him again.
 The density of people in society is so thick that we
 forget that life will end one day.  And we don't know
 when that one day will be.

from Mark Molloy