It was Halloween night, and the diner where I worked was expected to be busy. At the last minute, my babysitter canceled, so I had no choice but to bring my four-year-old son, Micah, with me. He was dressed as a firefighter and excited for the evening.
As the night got busier, I set Micah up in a back booth with crayons and a grilled cheese. I told him to stay there while I took care of customers.
Between refilling coffee and taking orders, I glanced at his booth—but he was gone.
Panic hit me as I searched the diner. He wasn’t in the bathroom, so I rushed into the kitchen. That’s when I saw him—talking to a firefighter.
The firefighter was listening carefully to Micah, and then, to my surprise, he started crying.
I stepped closer, curious about what was happening.
Micah was telling him about his dad—a firefighter who had passed away last year. Micah didn’t know all the details, just that his dad was a hero who had saved lives.
The firefighter wiped his tears and crouched down. “Who was your daddy, buddy?” he asked.
When Micah said his father’s name, the firefighter broke down and hugged him. “Your dad was my friend. He really was a hero.”
I stood there, shocked. My husband and this man had trained together and worked at the same fire station.
The firefighter reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver badge. It was a little worn but still shiny. “This belonged to your dad,” he said. “He gave it to me for good luck. Now, I want you to have it.”
Micah was too young to fully understand, but I realized something that night—our grief wasn’t just ours. Others missed my husband too.
I knew some of my husband’s colleagues, but now I had met Tyler, a man who still carried my husband’s memory.
That night, I learned that love doesn’t fade with loss. It continues through memories, unexpected connections, and even small silver badges passed down.