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 things 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 Viet Nam 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 one of the last ones
to approach the casket.

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her.

"Were you Aidan's math teacher?" he asked.

She nodded: "Yes."

Then he said: "Aidan talked about you a lot."

After the funeral, most of Aidan's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Aidan'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 Aidan when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed a worn piece of notebook
paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.
The teacher knew without looking that the paper was the one on which
she had listed all the good things each of Aidan's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Aidan's mother said. "As you can
see, Aidan treasured it."

All of Aidan's former classmates 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 Aidan
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.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are
special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.