My cell phone rang just as I was about to go into a church on W. 31st Street. It was my wife. “Michael Kelly is dead,” she said, and it felt like the earth disappeared from under my feet. I can’t say that I knew him well, but I knew him, and admired his work like nobody else’s. I went in to mass, and offered it up for him, and for his mom and dad, Tom and Marguerite. They were my neighbors when I lived on Capitol Hill, and have been fortunate enough to have been a guest at their table on a number of occasions. I mean it literally when I say you will not find finer people anywhere. And God, were they proud of their son. My heart is broken for them–and for their daughter-in-law and young children who have lost a husband and father. Mike Kelly was the best. The best. And he came from the best. God love them, the Kellys.