A BIKER CAME TO MY WIFE’S GRAVE EVERY SINGLE WEEK, AND FOR MONTHS, I HAD NO IDEA WHO HE WAS…
would leave it there for several seconds.Almost as if he were saying goodbye all over again.
I watched this for months.
And eventually, curiosity turned into something I couldn’t ignore.
By the third month, I had convinced myself that I needed answers.
By the sixth month, I couldn’t take it anymore.
That Saturday, I got out of my car.
I walked across the grass toward him.
He heard my footsteps but didn’t immediately turn around.
His hand was resting against Emily’s headstone.
“Excuse me,” I said.
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
He slowly lowered his hand.
Then he stood.
He looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw his face clearly.
He looked exhausted.
Not physically exhausted.
Emotionally.
Like a man who had been carrying something heavy for a very long time.
“I think it’s time you told me who you are,” I said.
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