A good moment.
And sometimes that was enough.
One afternoon, the hospital arranged a small activity for children who were well enough to participate.
The child-life team had set up a simple toy-car display in a supervised activity room. There were small tracks, colorful decorations, and a table where children could create paper racing flags.
Wade volunteered to help.
Eli was delighted.
He had spent so many hours racing cars beside his bed that the possibility of participating with other children seemed extraordinary.
His medical team confirmed that he was well enough for the activity under the necessary precautions, and I accompanied him.
Wade was waiting near the entrance.
He wore his leather vest and a ridiculous racing cap.
Eli gasped.
"Wade!"
The biker turned.
"Champion!"
My son looked around.
"Are all these cars racing?"
Wade nodded.
"International championship."
Eli frowned.
"Where are the international people?"
The biker looked surprised.
"You're looking at one."
My son stared at him.
"You're from here."
Wade sighed.
"Well, you've caught me."
Eli burst out laughing.
Several other children smiled.
A little girl sitting nearby held up a purple toy car.
"Mine's the fastest."
Eli looked offended.
"No, blue is."
The girl raised her eyebrows.
"Purple is."
Wade stepped between them.
"Sounds like we need an official race."
The children agreed immediately.
For the next half hour, Wade helped them take turns with the little cars. He made sure each child could participate in a way that worked for their energy and mobility, and he followed the staff's guidance throughout.
Some children laughed loudly.
Others watched quietly.
A few became tired and returned to their rooms.
Wade treated every one of them with the same patience.
I stood near the doorway, watching him.
For the first time, I understood what the volunteer program meant to him beyond his relationship with Eli.
He wasn't simply visiting one child because that child reminded him of his daughter.
He was using something Lily had loved to create moments of ordinary happiness for children whose lives had become far too complicated.
I watched him crouch beside the little girl with the purple car.
She looked disappointed after losing a race.
Wade leaned closer.
"Want to know a secret?"
She nodded.
"Sometimes the fastest car doesn't win."
The girl frowned.
"Why?"
"Because racing isn't always about being the fastest."
She considered that.
"Then what is it about?"
Wade smiled.
"Sometimes it's about having somebody to race with."
The little girl looked toward Eli.
Then she smiled.
"Again?"
My son immediately raised his blue car.
"AGAIN!"
Wade laughed.