Sam Crane continues to write with amazing grace about the loss of his son Aidan.

I wear a Yankees cap most days (not today: the threat of rain-snow impelled me to something sturdier for my head). It is old and worn, and is emblazoned with a glitter-glue AIDAN on the bill. I have been wearing it for years. I have worn it to Yankee stadium; I have worn it in the lion’s den of Boston. I will wear it many days to my classes. In the past some would ask “who’s Aidan?” Although most who know will now avoid that question, should it come up, I will answer in the same way: “He is my son.” I will keep it in the present tense because, even as his season has passed, he persists in the continual unfolding of all seasons.

Read the whole thing. I can only aspire to be half the father that Sam is. He sets that bar for all of us.

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