Forty bikers showed up for my mom, and I still can’t talk about it without my hands shaking.
My mom is 82. She survived cancer twice. She buried my dad three years ago and still gets up every morning and makes her own coffee.
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Forty bikers showed up for my mom, and I still can’t talk about it without my hands shaking.
My mom is 82. She survived cancer twice. She buried my dad three years ago and still gets up every morning and makes her own coffee.
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