“What does it mean?”
He smiled faintly. “It’s not people saving you. It’s people remembering you’re worth saving.”
Rebecca nodded, blinking back tears. “You’re worth it, Uncle Walter.”
He chuckled. “Took me a while to believe that.”
By spring, The Grady Initiative had grown beyond Brooklyn. Centers were opening in Chicago, Denver, and Dallas. A national bill—The Homeless Veterans Restoration Act—was making its way through Congress. His name appeared in the preamble.
Walter didn’t read the news much. Instead, he volunteered at the local outreach office, helping other vets fill out benefit forms, teaching them how to navigate the same maze that had once broken him.
“Paperwork,” he’d joke, “the deadliest weapon in modern warfare.”
The younger vets loved him. They called him “Sarge.” When one of them got housing, he’d show up at the door with groceries and a toolbox, fixing what needed fixing.
