I was running late. I had just received a call from another state hospital telling me a girl had just been born, and I was listed as the father.
I would have discounted it as a prank, but I knew my wife was in that area for a short holiday I organized for her while I renovated our home — it was a surprise.
We had no kids of our own and had adopted three because adoption was something we both wanted to be involved in, so we needed to add more rooms to our house, which was why I was renovating.
Among the two of us, I was more particular about getting a foster child because I was one myself, and I had grown up promising to take in as many kids as I could.
“If I can help those kids grow up to be the best of themselves, then I feel like I’ve made a huge difference,” I told my wife while we were discussing it.
I was also father to two grown kids, whom I conceived while I was with my former wife, Ellen. We went our separate ways after she decided to cheat with our pool boy, and she was caught.
I met my second wife, Mary, two years later, and after dating for several months, we got married. We tried to have kids but were unsuccessful, and this motivated us to look into adoption, but we never stopped trying to make babies.
One day, our persistence paid off, and Mary conceived a child. It was in preparation for the baby’s arrival that I decided to expand the house to include a nursery and an extra room.
After making the decision, I got Mary, who was due in two months, on a plane to a place she had always wanted to visit. But when she arrived there, she immediately went into labor and was subsequently rushed to the hospital.
Unfortunately, she died during childbirth, so I was told that because the child was a newborn, it was necessary to fly out immediately. I packed my suitcases and flew to pick up my daughter.
When my plane landed, I rented a car and made my way to the hospital, where my wife had allegedly passed away.
The news of her death still ate at me, but I knew there would be time to grieve later, so I focused on bringing home our biological child.
When I arrived at the hospital, I met with the volunteer at the intensive care unit, a woman who was 82 years old and recently widowed.
Her name was Meredith, and she had things to tell me. “What happened?” I asked her as soon as I entered her office.
“Have a seat, young man,” she said calmly.
“I’m better off standing,” I replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss, but your wife suffered some complications giving birth to your child.”
At that, I cried bitterly, and Meredith quietly watched me, choosing to let me grieve. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat and spoke.
“As I understand, you have come for the child, but I have to make sure that you have what it takes to care for one,” Meredith said.
I let her know that I was already a father and Meredith nodded appreciatively as if to say, “You’ll do,” but she still gave me her phone number.
“Call me if you need anything,” she said. The kind woman also offered me a ride to the airport on the day of departure.
Things went on smoothly until it was time to board the plane. When I got to the boarding gate, the woman at the counter refused to let me through.
“Is this your child, sir?” she asked.
“Of course she is,” I said.
“I’m sorry, but she seems too young to be on an airplane. How old is she?”
“She’s four days old. Now can I get through?” I said.
“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to present her birth certificate and wait till she is at least seven days old before traveling with her,” the woman said sternly.
“What’s this?” I asked angrily. “Are you saying I have to remain here for the next couple of days? I have no family here to stay with, which is why I must get home today.”
“I’m sorry, it’s the policy,” the woman said and turned her attention to the next person in line.
I knew that it would take me quite some time to obtain the document, but I also had nowhere to go in that area and no one to ask for help.
I was preparing to spend the night at the airport when I remembered Meredith. I would rather not have bothered her, but I had no choice, and the night was quickly approaching.
“Hello, Meredith,” I said. “I need your help.”
When Meredith found out about my problem, she immediately promised to return to the airport and bring us to her home. Her offer astounded me. Who knew if I would have refused to help if I were in her place?
Compassion still thrives in this world,” I thought to myself.
I stayed at Meredith’s house for more than a week before I returned home. The woman didn’t only welcome me and my daughter into her home. She helped me cope with the newborn baby as well as the death of my wife by talking to me and comforting me. She even helped me arrange for the proper transportation of my wife’s body, making things easier for me.
I could not believe how generous she was and would always call her a real angel, even my daughter seemed to love the woman because the baby would start to glow and giggle just from hearing the woman’s voice.
During my stay, I learned that the woman had four grown children, seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.
Together, we looked after my baby, took relieving walks, and even went to honor the memory of Meredith’s departed husband, activities that brought the two of us even closer.
I saw in Meredith my mother, who had passed away a long time ago, and I knew I would miss her a lot when I flew home.
After receiving my daughter’s birth certificate, I was permitted to return home, but I continued to keep in touch with the old lady who had helped me.
I had no idea how things would have worked out without her, and I never forgot her kindness, so I visited her every year with my little daughter until she passed away a few years later.
A lawyer reached out to me at her funeral and told me that Meredith had left me part of her inheritance, just like she did for her kids.
In honor of her kindness, I donated the money to a charity I founded together with her four kids, including her oldest daughter Shirley, whom I fell in love with due to constant exposure to her charms. Later, we got married, and she became a mother to my six kids.
What did we gain from this story?
Kindness leaves a lasting impression. Bob could never forget Mrs. Sticks, who was there for him in his difficult times. Her heart inspired him to found the charity organization, which was a way to share more kindness around.
Imbibe the culture of giving back. Bob adopted three kids with his late wife because he was from a foster home himself and wanted to find a way to make the lives of kids in orphanages better. It is an act worthy of emulation.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only.
