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It is 5 a.m. – another night of little sleep. Two years of little sleep have passed since my son died because of a poor decision made by a Lancaster resident.
Mother’s Day weekend is approaching, the second anniversary of my son’s death. He was a healthy, strapping, handsome 37-year-old Marine staff sergeant, who was such a fine young man. I miss him terribly.
On May 11, 2007, during Bike Week at Myrtle Beach, my son, Michael, was driving his Harley-Davidson motorcycle north on U.S. 17 in South Myrtle Beach and had a passenger on back.
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