In October 1998, Mouse was 8 and Skinny Son was 14. They were both blessedly still attending St. Anthony's School, just across 7th Street from St. Mark's Episcopal Church.

Fritz the Dad was still alive and the Twin Towers were still standing.

Time heals some things, but not all. Perhaps we grieve in a different way 10 years later, but we still grieve.

As the "newsroom assistant" in October 1998, I had very little to do with our horribly sad, comprehensive, marvelous, award-winning coverage of the death of UW student Matthew Shepard of Casper in the town that raised me, Laramie.

To a person, we wish we had never had to cover any of that - awards or not.

I corrected spellings on some names in stories, made sure Shepard only had one "p" and an "a." And then on the day of the funeral, I shuttled reporters around so they wouldn't end up miles from their cars.

Still, I was deeply affected by the life-changing event. I think it would have been impossible not to have been.

In a 12-day span, the Star-Tribune printed what I think are the three best opinion pieces I've read in our paper - reporter Jason Marsden's on October 13, beloved opinion editor Charles Levendosky's on October 18 and city editor Steve Busemeyer's on October 25.

Jason and I shared an affinity for Tootsie Rolls and I worried about him like I would an older son.

Charles and I agreed on almost nothing, but I respected him and loved to hear him laugh. In his column that day, he wrote these words, "And snow fell. Wet snow. All day. A veil of silence descended, surrounding the mourners and the demonstrators. White silence. To clean the air. To wrap us in privacy. The kind of silence that cousins sorrow … A 21-year-old man with all the promise of youth tied to a fence and left to die, propped up like a scarecrow. And now the snow."

Steve was with us a short period of time, but he was a consummate professional and his reporters loved working for him.

In the days between Matthew's death in a Fort Collins hospital and his funeral in Casper at St. Mark's, the Star-Tribune printed a poster that we hoped folks who wanted to do something would hang in their windows.

It was starkly simple, a pale yellow ink background with three green circles in the foreground, the yellow symbolizing nonviolence and the green symbolizing peace.

In each classroom window of St. Anthony's School, one of those banners was hung.

Mouse came home and said, "we put posters for Matthew up today," and at 8, she knew he was a Casper kid who had been brutally murdered.

Because of the crowds expected at the funeral, St. Anthony's staff cancelled school that day and loaned their building for a kind of refuge/headquarters. As the cold rain changed to snow, it was a refuge indeed for anyone needing to get out of the wet.

Mouse was disappointed that she didn't get to go to school that day, because she wanted to "pray for Matt and his parents." I told her she didn't have to be in school to pray for them.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Community News editor Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at (307) 266-0520 or sallyann.shurmur@trib.com