One showed the boys at eight years old, covered in mud and grinning mischievously.

Theo studied it quietly.

Then he spoke.

“Mrs. Harris, there’s something else you should know.”

I turned toward him.

“What is it?”

“Jack didn’t want you to know that he sometimes thought he might die.”

My throat tightened.

“Why?”

“Because he knew you and Mr. Harris needed hope.”

I closed my eyes.

“He was the one going through all of it.”

“I know. I told him that.”

“What did he say?”

Theo smiled sadly.

“He said, ‘Yeah, but Mom worries about everything.’”

I laughed through my tears.

That sounded like Jack.

Theo continued.

“He wasn’t pretending to believe he could get better. He genuinely wanted college, traveling, and all the things he’d always planned.”

Then he paused.

“He just understood there was a chance those things might not happen.”

I looked at him.