The waiting room at the hospital felt unusually cold that day, and I think it had more to do with what the doctors had just told me than the actual temperature. I was holding my seven-year-old son, Liam, in my arms. He had been fighting leukemia for two years, and the treatments had taken a toll on him. He struggled to breath and placed his head on my shoulder, like he always did.
Unfortunately, we were at the point where treatment wasn’t helping anymore and I needed to take Liam home. It wasn’t that I wasn’t prepared for such an outcome, but hearing it out loud still felt unreal.
We were waiting for the paperwork when Liam lifted his head and started looking around the room. His eyes stopped on a biker with a leather vest, tattoos, and beard. He was a big guy, and honestly, my first instinct was to hold Liam closer. But then Liam turned to me and told me he wanted to talk to the man.
I was hesitant at first, but realizing how determined my son was to approach the biker, I agreed.
At that point, the biker had already noticed us because he stood up slowly and walked over. Once he got closer, he knelt down so he was eye level with Liam. He introduced himself as Mike, and Liam immediately started asking about motorcycles . He wanted to know so many things, such as how fast they go and what it feels like to ride one. Mike was patient and answered every question.
Then Liam told him something he didn’t talk about often, that his dad wanted to ride a motorbike before he passed away.
After a little while, Liam looked at me and asked, “Mom, can he hold me?”
I wasn’t tired. I could hold my child, but when Mike looked at me as though he was asking for permission, I let him pick Liam.
Liam leaned against Mike and they stood like that for quite some time, talking quietly and smiling.
Before we left, Liam asked if Mike could visit him at home. Mike said yes without hesitation.
A few days later, I heard motorcycles outside. But there wasn’t just a single motorbike, but a lot of them. Mike brought his club with him. They brought small gifts for Liam, including a tiny leather vest with patches. Then they gently lifted him onto a Harley and took him for a slow ride around the neighborhood. He loved every second of it.
Liam passed away a few days after that. At his funeral, about thirty riders showed up to pay their respects. Since then, Mike and some of the others still check in on me, help with things around the house, and make sure I’m doing alright.
Kindness truly comes when you least expect it.
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Bored Daddy
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