A Biker Showed Up At My Wife’s Grave Every Week And I Had No Idea Who He Was
Every Saturday at 2 p.m., I noticed a biker pulling into the cemetery. He’d park his Harley, walk straight to my wife Sarah’s grave, and sit silently for an hour — no flowers, no words, just quiet reflection. At first, I thought he’d made a mistake. Maybe he was at the wrong headstone. But when…