Since the day my son was born eight years ago, I’d been writing a book for him. It’s a collection of heroes — from Jim Henson, to Rosa Parks, to Mr. Rogers. I spent the better part of a decade not just finding great people, but finding the single moment that makes each of these people great. Thomas Jefferson not taking credit for writing the Declaration of Independence. What Miep Gies did when she first found the red-checked book that was Anne Frank’s diary. This book was a gift to my son. It was written to teach him. To inspire him. To prove to him that anything is possible. And now…finally…that book ⎯ “Heroes for My Son” ⎯ was bound and edited and just waiting to be shared with its true intended audience ⎯ the audience of one: My Jonas.
While reading this book to him, for the very first time, I broke my child’s heart, because to teach heroism, you have to teach loss.
(READ the author’s tale at Huffington Post)