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?”
When Emmett has hard days—when the sensory input is too much, when his autism makes the world overwhelming—Jessica or Marcus holds him close and makes the rumble. And Emmett makes it too now, this back-and-forth sound between parent and child, learned from a dying biker who just wanted to help.
Snake visits most often. He’s become sort of a godfather to Emmett, this gruff 72-year-old biker who never had kids of his own. He teaches Emmett about motorcycles, shows him pictures of Dale on his bike, tells him stories.
“Your buddy Dale,” Snake says, “he was the best of us. And you brought out the best in him, little man. You gave him a reason to keep fighting in those last days. You gave him purpose. That’s a gift.”
Emmett doesn’t fully understand yet. But he will.
And when he’s sixteen and the Iron Wolves hand him the keys to a restored 1987 Harley-Davidson, along with a sealed letter from a man who died holding him, he’ll understand completely.Continue reading…
