My son, who was nearing the end of his battle, asked the intimidating biker in the hospital waiting area to hold him instead of me. I’m his mom.

I asked why he was at the hospital.
“My daughter’s having a baby,” he said, with a soft smile. “It’s a good day.” Then, with a pause, “I’m sorry it’s not that way for you.”

“In its own way, it is,” I said. “We’re taking him home. He wants his dog. His bed. His favorite dinner.”

Mike nodded. “Home is the best place, especially near the end.”Continue reading…