Working as a single mom at a diner, I often had to bring my four-year-old son, Micah, to work with me. One evening, when my babysitter canceled, Micah came along, dressed in his favorite firefighter costume. I set him up in a booth with some crayons and paper, hoping to keep him occupied while I handled the dinner rush.
But as the diner grew busier, I looked over to check on Micah—only to find him missing. Panic surged through me as I searched the diner, calling his name. Finally, I found him outside, cradled in the arms of a firefighter. Micah was crying, but as he looked up at the man, he said, “It’s okay. You saved them. My daddy says you’re a hero.”
My heart swelled as I realized the firefighter had been a close friend of my late husband. Micah, in his innocent way, had connected with someone who had known his father. Before leaving, the firefighter gave Micah a silver badge that had once belonged to my husband. Micah held it tightly and promised to keep it forever.
The firefighter told us that my husband would be proud of us, and in that moment, I felt his love surrounding us. It was a reminder that love never truly ends—it lives on in the people and moments that bring us together.
