The First Card

Where It Began

I have a lot of memories of my Popi.
But when I think of him now, I think about a gas station.

I was in fourth grade when he showed me a small, worn copy of The Two Wolves poem tucked behind his ID in his wallet. It was folded over on itself, carried quietly, and easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.

After being diagnosed with several forms of stage 4 cancer, he referenced that poem often—not as something that changed his circumstances, but as something that reinforced the mindset he chose to carry. It reminded him what mattered. It grounded him in moments that were uncertain.

That small piece of wisdom stayed with him everywhere he went.