Coming Home to an Empty House and an Even Emptier Heart
The day I buried my wife, the world felt unrecognizable.
Thirty-two years with Sarah — and suddenly the house, the air, the future felt hollow.
I drove home from the cemetery in silence, still in my funeral suit, still holding the folded flag handed to me with solemn pity.
When I turned into my neighborhood, something immediately felt wrong.
Fifteen motorcycles lined my driveway like an iron wall.
