I didn’t realize what was happening to me after my wife passed away, and I was still dressed in my mourning clothes. When I returned home from her funeral, I was even more shocked.

In my house, fifteen strangers on motorcycles were chatting amiably with my son.

I asked everyone who they were and why they were in my home during this trying time for me, and they all offered their sincere condolences.

I wanted to yell and chase them away at first, but what I saw made me change my mind.
Two were repairing the porch, one was patching holes in the roof, and three were painting the walls of the living room. My son was seated at the table in the kitchen.

Calmly, he muttered, “Pardon me, Dad.” 😥😥

“Son, what happened? For what reason should I pardon you?

“I was powerless to stop them from breaking into the apartment while you were away. They appeared to be preparing something hazardous, but I was even more astonished to find out the truth.

He clarified that these individuals—friends from her motorcycle club—came to assist us in restoring the house and reuniting our family since my wife wanted him to take care of me before she passed away so I wouldn’t be alone.

We worked together for three days, shared laughs, reminisced about Sarah, and discussed life. I had the impression that I was no longer alone when the bikers went. The house had turned into a kind and caring space, my son was back at my side, and his family was there to support me.

This was all organized by Sarah. She wanted to ensure that I could live on and wouldn’t be left alone. For the first time since the funeral, I sensed love filling the house that night.

I came to understand that life goes on and that family is a strength that always takes us back home because of these folks, whom I had initially feared.