Wherever I went that week, people came up to me, shook my hand, told me their stories. Children, parents, grandparents, always with tears in their eyes, told me that these games had restored something they’d feared forever lost: the true spirit of a son, a daughter, a brother, a sister, a mum, a dad. One woman tapped me on the shoulder and told me I’d resurrected her husband’s smile. Oh, that smile, she said. I hadn’t seen it since he got injured. I knew Invictus would do some good in the world, I always knew, but I was caught off guard by this wave of appreciation and gratitude. And joy.
