A Biker Showed Up At My Wife’s Grave Every Week And I Had No Idea Who He Was

The first time I saw him, I thought he had the wrong grave. The cemetery’s big. Mistakes happen. But he came back. Again and again.

I started to feel something I didn’t expect: anger. Who was this man? How did he know my wife? Why was he grieving her with such devotion when some of her own family hadn’t visited in months?

Sarah died fourteen months ago. Breast cancer. She was forty-three. We’d been married twenty years. Two kids. A good life. A quiet life.Continue reading…