When I was ten years old, I lost someone really special—my Pop, your great-great-grandfather. He was steady, quiet, kind—and I can still hear the sound of the coins jingling in his pocket whenever he walked into a room. It’s funny the things that stick with you. That little sound became something I connected with him, almost like a signature. And to this day, whenever I’m making a big decision, I still talk to him in my prayers. I picture him standing nearby, just listening, maybe not saying anything—just being there, jingling that change like he always did.

I would’ve given anything to have had more time with him as I got older. Just to sit with him. Ask questions. Hear how he thought about life. That’s one of the reasons I’m writing this book for you.

Because one day, you’re going to find yourself in a moment—tough, exciting, uncertain—and wish someone you trusted could help you think it through. And if I can’t be there, maybe these words can. Maybe they’ll help you hear my voice and feel my love—especially when it’s your turn to decide.