Today, Emmett is five years old. His autism still makes the world challenging, but he’s thriving. He’s in speech therapy, occupational therapy, learning to navigate a world that doesn’t always make sense to him.
But his room is decorated with pictures of bikers. His favorite jacket is a tiny leather vest that Dale’s brothers made for him, with a patch that says “Dale’s Little Brother.” And every night before bed, Jessica or Marcus holds him close and makes that sound.
Low and deep, coming from the chest.
The sound that says: you’re safe. I’ve got you. Rest now.
The sound of a biker who loved a toddler he held for six hours.
The sound of a hero in leather.
Marcus had the photo from the hospital printed large. It hangs in their living room. Emmett points to it every single day.
“That’s Dale,” Jessica tells him every time. “He was very sick, but he held you when nobody else could help. He gave you peace. Someday, you’ll ride his motorcycle. And you’ll understand what it means to be a biker. It means you show up when people need you. It means you use whatever strength you have left to help. It means you’re never too sick, too tired, or too scared to hold someone who’s hurting.”
The Iron Wolves MC visits Emmett several times a year. They bring cupcakes on Dale’s birthday and tell Emmett stories about the man who held him. About how Dale was funny. How he was loyal. How he loved his brothers. How he spent his last good days making sure a little boy could feel safe.
Emmett understands more now. He asks questions. “Dale was sick?” “Dale rode bike?” “Dale loved me?”Continue reading…
