A BIKER CAME TO MY WIFE’S GRAVE EVERY SINGLE WEEK, AND FOR MONTHS, I HAD NO IDEA WHO HE WAS…
across the property, and some of the older sections were difficult to navigate.But then he came back the following Saturday.
And the Saturday after that.
Week after week, this complete stranger sat beside my wife as though he had lost her too.
At first, I was confused.
Then I became angry.
Who was this man?
How had he known Emily?
Why did he come here every week?
And perhaps the question that bothered me most of all:
Why did he seem to mourn my wife more deeply than some members of her own family?
Emily had died fourteen months earlier.
Breast cancer.
She was only 43 years old.
We had been married for twenty years.
We had two children.
We had built a quiet life together.
There had been birthdays, school plays, family vacations, grocery lists, arguments about money, late-night conversations, and countless ordinary mornings.
I thought I knew
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