For my birthday, my wife got me a black leather jacket online. When it arrived, I was excited—but it quickly turned to disappointment. The zipper was stuck, the sleeves were too tight, and the jacket felt heavy and uncomfortable. She returned it.
Then, just four days later, another unexpected event happened. My friend Carolyn Roberts said,
Greg wants you to have his black jacket
It was a Ralph Lauren jacket—light, warm, and a perfect fit. I loved it instantly.
I don’t know why God destined me to have a black leather jacket, but here’s the story behind it.
A few years ago, Carolyn told me that Greg Howell had throat cancer. He could no longer speak, and the isolation was weighing on him. I suggested we start a sign language class at Trinity Church, hoping it would give Greg a way to connect. Over the next three years, Greg was no longer trapped in one-way communication. With each class, he signed with us—and we signed back. In that space, we were all equals, communicating with our hands instead of our voices.
Until his final days, Greg was never alone in silence. I’ll never forget the last sign he shared with a few of us who visited him before he passed. He signed
Family
I’m not one for fancy clothes, but this black jacket will always be special. It carries more than warmth—it holds a memory, a friendship, and a lesson in resilience.
I hope that when you read this story and see the jacket, you’ll remember Gregory Howell—his strength, his spirit—and the enduring power of sign language, community, and family.