My son, who was nearing the end of his battle, asked the intimidating biker in the hospital waiting area to hold him instead of me. I’m his mom.

I went. I rode with them, delivering gifts to the hospital where Liam once reached out to a stranger—and found a family.

I learned something vital: kindness doesn’t always come soft and gentle. Sometimes it comes in leather, tattoos, and thunder. But beneath it all, it is the same compassion that holds the world together.

A biker held my son that day. But what he truly held was something far more precious: our shared humanity.

And when I look at Liam’s tiny vest on the wall, I know that love wears many faces.
Some wear white coats. Some ride Harleys. All carry a little bit of heaven with them.

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