The Biker I Tried To Kill Years Ago Just Showed Up To Hold My Hand As I Die

amily I could have been part of. At the life I’d almost destroyed.

“I was wrong,” I whispered. “About everything. About bikers. About you. About what mattered.”

“I know.”

“I wasted my whole life caring about reputation. Status. What people thought. And in the end, I’m dying alone. My own family left three days ago. Nobody’s coming back.”

Marcus squeezed my hand again. “You’re not alone right now, Robert.”

“Why are you here? Really? After everything?”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he spoke.

“Because forty-three years ago, a scared young man taught me what cruelty looked like. You showed me who I never wanted to be. Every time I was tempted to be harsh, judgmental, closed-minded, I remembered you. And I chose different.”

“You made me a better man, Robert. A better father. A better human being. By showing me exactly what not to do.”

I laughed. It turned into a cough. Marcus helped me drink some water.

“That’s the worst compliment anyone’s ever given me,” I said.

“It’s the truth.” He smiled. “And there’s one more reason I’m here.”

He reached into his vest again and pulled out an envelope.

“Sarah wanted to come. Wanted to meet you before you passed. But she’s on shift at the hospital. Can’t get away.”

“So she wrote you this.”

He placed the envelope in my trembling hand.

“She knows everything, Robert. Everything you did. Everything you cost her. Fifteen years without a father. A lifetime without a mother.”

“And she wanted you to know she forgives you too.”

I couldn’t open the envelope. My hands were shaking too badly. Marcus opened it for me. Held the letter so I could read it.

“Dear Grandfather,” it began. “I know we’ve never met. I know what you did to my parents. I know you’re the reason I grew up without them. But I’m writing to tell you something my father taught me: Forgiveness isn’t about deserving. It’s about choosing peace over pain. I choose peace. I hope you find it too. With love, Sarah.”

I sobbed. Deep, wracking sobs that shook my failing body.

The man I’d tried to kill was holding me while I cried. His arms around me. His hand on my head. This biker. This “nobody” I’d threatened with a shotgun.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. For everything.”

“I know,” Marcus said. “I know you are.”

We sat like that for a long time. Me crying. Him holding me. The machines beeping steadily.

Finally, when I’d calmed down, Marcus spoke again.

“I’m going to stay with you, Robert. However long you have left, I’m going to be here.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He settled back in his chair but kept holding my hand. “Nobody should die alone. Not even the man who tried to kill me.”

I stared at him. At this incredible human being I’d dismissed as trash forty-three years ago.

“You’re a better man than I ever was,” I said.Continue reading…