I was speeding. I admit it. I was doing 80 in a 65. Blue lights. I pulled over, heart pounding. The officer walked up. "License and registration. What's the rush?" I burst into tears. "My dad is in hospice. They just called. He has hours." The officer’s face softened. He handed me back my license. "Follow me," he said. He turned on his lights and sirens. He escorted me through traffic for 20 miles, clearing the way. We got to the facility in record time. He walked me to the door. "Go," he said. "Tell him you love him." I made it. I held my dad's hand as he took his last breath. When I walked out an hour later, the officer was still there, leaning against his car. "Did you make it?" he asked. "Yes," I nodded. "Thank you." "My dad died alone while I was on patrol three years ago," he said, staring at the ground. "I wasn't gonna let that happen to you." He got in his car and drove away. Angels wear badges sometimes. stories like this give me hope Beloud