“We didn’t want to stop the program,” Mrs. Henderson explained. “But we didn’t know how to continue without him.”
Bear stepped forward. “Ma’am, if you’ll have us, the club would be honored to continue Jim’s work. We’ve got brothers who are teachers, mechanics, even a pediatric nurse. We can keep Motorcycle Monday going.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. As we walked toward the entrance, the bikers formed two lines, creating an honor guard for Tommy to walk through. Each man nodded as he passed, some saluting, others just touching their hearts.
At the classroom door, Tommy turned back to look at them all. Then he did something that broke and healed my heart simultaneously. He stood at attention, lifted his small hand to the helmet in a perfect salute – something Jim must have taught him – and said in his loudest voice: “Thank you for bringing my daddy with me.”
The toughest, roughest men I’d ever seen fell apart. Bear turned away, shoulders shaking. Others pulled off sunglasses to wipe their eyes. Two had to hold each other up.
Tommy marched into his classroom, head high in his father’s helmet, ready to face kindergarten.Continue reading…
