The hospital’s waiting room felt particularly chilly that day, and I believe it was more about the news the doctors had just shared than the actual coldness. I was cradling my seven-year-old son, Liam, in my arms. He had been battling leukemia for two years, and the treatments had really taken a toll on him. He was having difficulty breathing and rested his head on my shoulder, just like he always did.
Sadly, we had reached a point where the treatment was no longer effective, and I had to take Liam home. It wasn’t that I was unprepared for this outcome, but hearing it spoken aloud still felt surreal.
As we waited for the paperwork, Liam lifted his head and began to scan the room. His gaze landed on a biker wearing a leather vest, covered in tattoos, and sporting a beard. He was a large man, and honestly, my first reaction was to pull Liam closer. But then Liam looked at me and expressed his desire to speak to the man.
At first, I felt a bit unsure, but seeing my son’s determination to approach the biker, I decided to go along with it.
By that time, the biker had already spotted us; he stood up slowly and made his way over. As he got nearer, he knelt down to be at eye level with Liam. He introduced himself as Mike, and Liam instantly began to inquire about motorcycles. He had so many questions, like how fast they can go and what it feels like to ride one. Mike was very patient and took the time to answer each question.
Then, Liam shared something he rarely spoke about—that his dad had wanted to ride a motorbike before he passed away.
After a little while, Liam turned to me and asked, “Mom, can he hold me?”
I wasn’t feeling tired. I could hold my child, but when Mike glanced at me as if he were seeking permission, I allowed him to pick up Liam.
Liam leaned against Mike, and they remained that way for quite a while, chatting softly and smiling.
Before we departed, Liam inquired if Mike could come over to visit him at home. Mike agreed without any hesitation.
A few days later, I heard the sound of motorcycles outside. But it wasn’t just one motorbike; there were many of them. Mike had brought his club along. They came with small gifts for Liam, including a little leather vest adorned with patches. Then they carefully lifted him onto a Harley and took him for a leisurely ride around the neighborhood. He enjoyed every moment of it.
Liam left us just a few days later. At his funeral, around thirty riders came to honor his memory. Since that time, Mike and a few others continue to check in on me, assist with tasks around the house, and ensure that I’m okay.
Kindness often arrives when you least anticipate it.
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