Smoking

Its my hobby.

phone photography.

its me.

"The kids would say, "Oh, man. I can't believe it,' " Louise Curtis said.
a smoker lights a cigarette after Bryan's June 8 funeral service
After the graveside service June 8, this friend and a handful of relatives light up.

In the last few weeks, Bryan's mother has been the agent for his mission to accomplish some good with the tragedy. She has called newspapers and radio and television stations, seeking someone willing to tell her son's story, willing to help give him the one thing he wanted before he died. Bryan never got to tell his story to the public. He spoke for the last time an hour before a visit from a Times reporter and photographer.

His head, bald from chemotherapy, lolls on a pillow. The bones of his cheeks and shoulders protrude under taut skin. His eyes are open, but he can no longer respond to his mother or his wife, Bobbie, who married him in a makeshift ceremony in this room three weeks ago after doctors said there was no hope.