Bear handed me the helmet with reverence. My fingers trembled as I reached into the lining and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The handwriting was Jim’s—strong, familiar, heartbreakingly alive.

It read:
“To my boy, Tommy—if you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it home one day. But I want you to know something very important. Your dad loved you more than life itself. I’m sorry I won’t be there to tie your shoes, chase the monsters from under your bed, or watch you walk into school. But you’ve got your mom, and she’s the strongest person I know. And you’ve got my brothers—they’ll always have your back. You’re not alone, son. Not ever. Ride true. Live kind. Love, Dad.”

Tears blurred the words. By the time I finished, Tommy was curled in my lap, whispering, “Did Daddy really write that?”

I nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. He did.”

The Ride to Kindergarten