My dad always told us he was a mid-level manager at a parts distributor. Every weekday looked the same—same shirt, same lunchbox, same quiet complaints about “back pain.” We never questioned it. It was just Dad.
At the funeral, a man in uniform approached us. He wasn’t family, and none of us recognized him. He stood by the casket, removed his cap, and said softly, “Your dad saved our day more times than I can count.”
Confused, we listened as he continued. Continue reading…
