The Day of the Funeral
When I pulled into the small funeral home that Friday, I froze. The parking lot was packed.
Fifty-three bikers stood in full club colors, our motorcycles lined up like soldiers. A full Army honor guard was there too, their uniforms pressed and shining in the midday sun. A Navy chaplain had driven three hours just to officiate.
And behind them — over two hundred people. Veterans, families, neighbors, even strangers from other states. Some were crying before the service even started.
The funeral director met me at the door, eyes glistening.
“I’ve done this job for 23 years,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
