Two years ago Friday, 17 people were shot to death at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., by a man who should not have had a gun. When a friend reminded me of this “anniversary” a couple of weeks ago, I asked him if he believed that was an appropriate word for the occasion. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said.

The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that our gun violence problem is also a language problem — euphemisms, distortions, misdirections. But it turns out the Parkland students are addressing this problem in their own unique way.

My anniversary is July 7, the day my wife, Anne Marie, and I were married. It was one of the happiest days of my life. She was pregnant with Galen, who was born on Sept. 27, 1974, another happiest day. Eighteen years later, on Dec. 14, 1992, Galen was killed in a school shooting. It always felt obscene to associate that event with an “anniversary.”

It gets worse. Our son wasn’t “taken,” as common parlance has it. He was shot and killed by a man who should not have had a gun. People sometimes tell me how tragic it was that Galen happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. This is intended as consolation, but it’s no help to me. It was Galen’s killer who was in the wrong place — in every sense.