47 Bikers Showed Up To Walk My Son To School After His Daddy Died

“Is that Daddy’s helmet?” Tommy asked in a tiny voice.

Bear knelt down, his massive frame folding until he was eye level with my son. “Sure is, little man. And he left you something special inside it. But here’s the thing – it only works if you’re brave enough to wear it to school. Think you can do that?”

Tommy bit his lip, a habit he’d picked up since Jim died. “Daddy said I wasn’t big enough for his helmet.”

“That was before,” Bear said softly. “Before you became the man of the house. Before you had to be brave for your mom. Your dad knew this day would come, and he made sure we’d be here for it.”

I watched in amazement as Bear carefully placed the helmet on Tommy’s small head. It should have been comically large, should have swallowed him whole. But somehow – maybe they’d added padding, maybe it was just the morning light – it looked almost right.Continue reading…