When Teresa’s grandmother passes away, she races across continents, desperate to say goodbye… but she arrives too late. Wracked with guilt, she visits the grave, only to discover a mysterious package left just for her. As Teresa navigates grief and love, she learns that some bonds transcend time, offering solace in the most unexpected ways.
When my uncle called that morning, I knew something was wrong before he said a word. His voice had this sharp, clipped edge, but I could still hear the strain in it.
A man talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Grandma’s gone, Teresa,” he said. “She passed last night.”
For a moment, the world went silent. It was as if my mind refused to process the words.
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” he added. “If you’re not here, we’ll have to bury her without you.”
“What? Tomorrow?” My voice cracked. “I can’t… there’s no way I can get there that fast!”
A shocked woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Then don’t bother,” he said curtly. “She’s gone, Teresa. We won’t wait for you… we can’t.”
I stood frozen, phone in hand, the sharp beep of the call ending pulling me out of my stupor. My uncle Craig, ever the practical and unyielding one, had spoken as if my grandmother’s passing was just another event on a packed calendar.
But she wasn’t just my grandmother. She was my everything.
A smiling old woman | Source: Midjourney
She’d raised me after my mom passed, back when I was too young to understand what death meant. Grandma became my world. She stepped into the role of mom, confidante, and teacher with ease.
Life with her was a steady rhythm of love and laughter, her warmth filling the void my mother’s death left behind.
The thought of not being there for her, of not saying goodbye, tore at me.
An upset woman looking out of a window | Source: Midjourney
I booked the first flight out, throwing clothes into a suitcase without even checking if they matched. I wasn’t even sure if I had suitable funeral clothing, either. Every second felt like a betrayal.
I couldn’t bear the thought of her being lowered into the ground while I was thousands of miles away, stuck in some airport terminal.
The plane ride was unbearable. I was unable to eat, my food tray just sitting there, the food getting cold and congealing. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t watch any of the movies or listen to music.
A tray of airplane food | Source: Midjourney
I was numb.
Memories of my grandmother flooded my mind. Her stories, her hugs, her quiet wisdom… I kept telling myself I’d make it in time, but when I finally landed and called my uncle, the funeral was already over.
“We couldn’t wait, Teresa. Don’t act shocked. I told you this already,” he said flatly.
A woman standing in an airport | Source: Midjourney
By the time I arrived at her house, it was empty, stripped of the life it once held. My cousins had cleared out, leaving behind traces of their rushed goodbyes. There was a half-empty water bottle on the counter, a crumpled tissue on the sofa, someone’s forgotten lipstick on the floor.
I stood in the doorway, letting the silence engulf me.
Grandma’s favorite chair was still by the window, the blanket she’d always kept on her lap folded neatly over the back. On the side table, an unfinished knitted sock lay abandoned, the lavender yarn still threaded through the needles.
A ball of yarn and knitting needles | Source: Midjourney
I reached out, brushing my fingers against the soft fabric, and the tears came in a flood.
She had been working on this. Just days ago, she’d sat here, humming softly as she knitted, probably thinking about some old family recipes.
I sank into the chair, clutching the sock like it was a lifeline. Memories of her voice, her laughter, her love, rushed over me. The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I didn’t want it to stop.
This pain was all I had left of her.
An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
When the sunlight began streaming through the window, I wiped my face and stood. There was one thing I still had to do.
I stopped at a florist and bought a bouquet of daisies, her favorite. The drive to the cemetery was a blur, my mind racing with all the things I wished I’d said, the moments I wished I could relive.
The grave was easy to find.
A bucket of daisies at a florist | Source: Midjourney
The fresh mound of dirt stood out starkly against the older, weathered headstones. My breath hitched as I approached, the reality of it hitting me all over again.
This was it. Her final resting place.
But something caught my eye. At the base of the grave, nestled in the dirt, was a small package. My name, Teresa, was scrawled on the paper in her unmistakable handwriting.
A package in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I picked it up, my heart pounding.
The package felt almost warm, as if her love had left a mark on it. I tore at the wrapping, revealing a folded note inside.
My dear Teresa, it began.
I know your uncle probably won’t let us see each other one last time. I don’t know where I went wrong with him… but he’s always been jealous of the bond we share. I need you to know this: Teresa, you are my love, my joy, and the light in the darkest of days.
I asked Rina to leave this package on my grave after I’m gone. This is so you’ll never be late again.
A woman reading a note in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
I gasped.
Grandma had planned this? Had she known exactly how things would unfold?
And it made sense to me. Craig probably thought that Grandma was going to leave a whole lot of money to me, her house even. Not that I wanted any of it…
“Oh, Gran,” I muttered.
An old woman writing a letter | Source: Midjourney
Tears blurred my vision as I opened the smaller package inside. A gold wristwatch glinted in the sunlight, its face encircled by tiny diamonds. I turned it over, and there, engraved on the back, were the words:
Grandma and Teresa. Always and Forever.
I dropped to my knees, clutching the watch to my chest. The ache in my heart swelled to unbearable proportions. She had thought of me, even in her final days, leaving behind this symbol of her love for me.
A woman holding a watch in a box | Source: Midjourney
As I sat there, the pieces of her note lingered in my mind.
My uncle. His jealousy.
It all made sense now, the way he’d rushed the funeral, his brusque phone calls, the coldness in his voice. He’d never hidden his resentment, but to think that he’d taken it this far… refusing to wait even a few hours.
Still, as much as his actions stung, I couldn’t let them overshadow what I held in my hands. The watch wasn’t just an heirloom, it was a promise.
A man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
It was the promise of a connection to my grandmother that time could never erase.
The cemetery was quiet as I stood by her grave, sharing memories, apologizing for being late, and thanking her for everything she’d given me.
When I finally stood to leave, I slipped the watch onto my wrist. It felt like a piece of her was with me, tangible and eternal.
A woman standing in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
The house was still empty when I returned, but it didn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore. I stood in the living room, looking at the remnants of her life, her unfinished sock, the framed photo of the two of us by the mantel.
Moments later, the door opened.
“Teresa,” he said. “What are you doing here? Why bother to come when everything is over?”
“How can you ask me such a question?” I gasped.
A grandmother’s living room | Source: Midjourney
“She was old, Teresa,” he said. “What did you expect? That the old woman would live forever?”
“When did you get so cruel, Uncle Craig?” I asked.
“When did you get so self-righteous?” he spat.
Before I knew it, two men from a moving company walked into the house.
Two men standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“I’m taking the furniture. And those expensive plates and vases. I’m going to sell them.”
“Gran will never forgive you for this,” I said simply, sitting down on the couch.
“Gran is long gone, Teresa. It’s time to move on. And don’t try to contest the will,” he said. “Gran would have given everything to me. I can’t wait to give Rose her watch. My mother would absolutely want her first-born granddaughter to have it.”
A cupboard with expensive crockery | Source: Midjourney
I pulled my sleeve down, hoping that Craig wouldn’t see the watch. I wasn’t going to hand it over. No way. But at the same time, I didn’t want to entertain Craig. He could take everything else.
A few months had passed since I left my grandmother’s house for the last time. Life had resumed its usual rhythm, or at least, that’s what it looked like from the outside.
The watch stayed on my wrist, its weight a constant reminder of her. Some days, I caught myself holding it, brushing my thumb over the inscription as if I could summon her voice.
A watch on a person’s wrist | Source: Midjourney
One evening, I made myself a cup of tea, Gran’s favorite chamomile blend, and curled up on the sofa with a blanket. The unfinished sock from her house now sat on my coffee table, neatly placed in a small knitting basket.
I picked up the knitting needles, my fingers still clumsy and awkward with the motions. She’d tried to teach me once, years ago, but I’d been too impatient to sit still.
A cup of tea on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“One day you’ll see,” she’d said with a knowing smile. “That knitting is like life. You just keep going, one stitch at a time.”
One stitch at a time.
A lavender sock and knitting needles | Source: Midjourney
Judy and her family get into the habit of saving money in a “family stash jar,” which is used for emergencies or family outings. But soon, she starts noticing that someone in the family has sticky fingers, helping themselves to the money. Judy has to figure out who it is and what is the reason for such dishonesty.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Newborn Baby Cries All Day No Matter What Parents Do, after a While They Check His Crib – Story of the Day
Walter returns home from work to find his baby son crying. His wife has tried everything to quiet their son, but nothing works. Walter decides to check the crib and is shocked by what he finds there.
An ear-splitting wail echoed through the house as Walter entered from the garage. His wife, Abby, sat in the kitchen, and by the distressed look on her face, he knew Logan’s cries were bothering her again.
“Oh, honey,” he says and hugs her from behind. “How long has he been crying like that?”
“I’ve tried everything, Walter!” Abby broke down into sobs. “He’s been fed, changed, bathed, and burped! I even took his temperature! I don’t know what to do now. He keeps crying!”
After becoming parents a month ago, everything in the couple’s lives changed. And if there was something that really distressed Walter, it was Logan’s cries.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Come, we’ll figure this out together,” Walter said and took Abby to Logan’s room.
He cheerfully approached Logan’s crib. But all he saw in the crib was a dictaphone and a note. Walter pressed the stop button on the dictaphone, and Logan’s cries stopped.
“What did you do?” Abby called from behind. Walter wasn’t listening. He held the note and zoned out. It wasn’t until Abby snatched the note from his hand and opened it that he realized what had occurred.
“I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me.
If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier.
If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.”
“Oh my God!” Abby gasped. “What does it mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would kidnap Logan?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter recalled the janitor he’d mistreated at the maternity hospital. He was bringing a cute bear-shaped pot for Abby while she was admitted to the hospital, but the pot broke when he tripped over the janitor’s broom.
Furious, Walter called the man awful names, and the janitor said, “You’ll regret it!”
“We’ll have to go to the police, honey,” Walter said, snapping out of his thoughts. “It must be him!”
“What? The note says we’ll never see Logan again if we go to the police, Walter. We should just pay the ransom!”
“We don’t know if he’ll return Logan if we do that. Think about it, honey. This guy is a janitor… there’s no way he’d know if we went to the police, and since we know where he works, they might be able to go straight to the maternity hospital, arrest him, and bring Logan home to us.”
Abby agreed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter parked their car outside the station. He and Abby were about to exit the vehicle when Walter’s phone buzzed with a message.
“This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.”
Abby gasped as she read the message, and Walter looked around, trying to spot the kidnapper. But there were too many people. The only way to rescue Logan now was to pay the ransom.
Walter decided to drive to the bank right away, but Abby’s condition deteriorated. She threw up once and was about to throw up for a second time. It was better to drive her home, Walter decided.
“Don’t hate me for it, honey, but that’s the best for you,” he said. And Abby didn’t protest.
“Fine…But Walter…does that kidnapper even know about caring for a newborn?” she asked and broke down into tears.
Walter said nothing and drove her home. But his imagination wasn’t immune to dark thoughts. He kept imagining Logan in a dark room, crying for help that never came.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Somehow pulling himself together, Walter drove to the bank. Then he visited the storage locker mentioned by the kidnapper and placed the money inside it.
There were too many people around for him to spot the janitor, but Walter knew he would be somewhere nearby, watching him. So Walter returned to his car, drove a short distance, and parked around the lockers again. It wasn’t long before he spotted the janitor from the maternity hospital.
The janitor opened the locker. Walter sat up straighter, but then a tourist group walked past, hiding the janitor from view.
“Move it!” Walter snapped.
Painful minutes stretched out as the tourists headed toward one of the statues. After the last few people in the group eventually passed the lockers, Walter swore. The janitor had disappeared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter barely dared to breathe as he scanned the crowd. The man had been wearing the sort of flashy shirt sold in the more eclectic, hippie-themed stores, so he shouldn’t have been hard to spot.
There! A wave of relief washed over him as Walter spotted the janitor crossing the road. He was carrying the bag of money Walter had placed in the locker. Walter leaped from his car and followed him.
The man led him around a parking lot, past a variety of restaurants and several museums before he turned into a bus station. They were heading toward another row of lockers.
The janitor placed the bag inside a locker. When he turned around, Walter was ready. He shoved the janitor up against the lockers and held him there with his forearm.
“Where is my son?” Walter demanded. “I’ve done everything you asked, you jerk; now return Logan to me!”
“Look, I was offered $100 to collect the package and then drop it off here,” the man said. “I don’t know about your son!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Don’t you dare lie!”
“I’m not! Some guy paid me to deliver the package! I ran into him in the parking lot after work one day, but he was standing with the light behind him, so I didn’t see his face. I have two kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone else’s child.”
Something about the janitor’s eyes told Walter the older man wasn’t lying. He let the man go, then opened the locker. But it was empty. Somebody had cut a hole in the back.
Walter jogged around to the back of the lockers. The hole was covered from the back with a thin steel plate, loosely secured by two screws. Nobody around was carrying a bag like the one he’d placed the money into.
Walter didn’t know how to break the news to Abby. Logan was their miracle baby. They’d been struggling for years before they conceived him. And now, he had lost his only chance to get Logan back.
Walter entered his home. He checked all the rooms downstairs but didn’t find Abby anywhere. He went upstairs to check their bedroom and noticed Abby’s things were gone.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At first, Walter suspected she was kidnapped. He called her. Countless times. But she never answered. Then it dawned on him that the kidnapper wouldn’t have taken all of Abby’s things. Even her hand lotion was missing.
Walter was crushed, to say the least. How could Abby do this to them? No wonder she’d been so eager to return home after feeling sick. She had also insisted they pay the ransom. Abby was Logan’s kidnapper. Did she have an accomplice?
The only thing that consoled Walter’s heart was that the ransom money was fake. He would find a way to get his son back.
Walter drove to the maternity hospital where Logan was born, and near the vending machine, he found the man he was looking for—a doctor.
“Hi,” Walter approached him. “I hope you can help me. I need someone to call my wife—”
“I’m not a phone service,” the doctor replied sharply.
“You don’t understand. I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your assistance, doctor, and your silence.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The doctor studied Walter through narrowed eyes. He slowly smiled as Walter explained his situation and told him what he wanted the doctor to tell Abby.
Walter then retrieved his wallet and furtively showed the doctor the dollar bills inside it. The man nodded. “Okay, we have a deal. Come with me!”
Walter followed the doctor to a nurse’s station on the second floor. All the nurses were checking on their patients, judging by the activity in the hallways. Nobody took much notice as the doctor lifted the phone and dialed Abby’s number.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor; this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling to inform you that we just discovered something very serious in one of the routine tests we performed on your son after he was born. He needs to come in for treatment immediately.”
Walter heard Abby’s emotional outcry from the other side of the nurse’s station but couldn’t make out her exact words.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details over the phone. All I can say for now is that he has a rare genetic condition. I’m sure he does seem fine now, but that could change at any moment. He’s at a higher risk for SIDS and several other life-threatening conditions. You really need to bring him in today, Mrs. Taylor.”
Dr. Jones ended the call a few minutes later and showed Walter a thumbs-up.
“She’s going to bring the baby in ASAP.” Dr. Jones held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. “I did my bit. Now it’s time for you to pay up.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter paid the doctor and went back downstairs. He wandered around for a few minutes before his phone started ringing. His lip curled in disgust when he checked the caller ID.
“You have some nerve to phone me after what you did, Abby,” Walter said. “Where’s Logan? I demand you bring him back.”
“Says the man who doesn’t even care enough about him to pay the ransom!” Abby shrieked. “That money was all fake, you tight-fisted jerk. Logan needs to see a doctor urgently, and I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money, Walter?”
“In my account, where it’s been all along. What’s wrong with Logan, or is this just another scheme to get my money?”
Abby swore at him and began to cry. “I told you; he’s sick! You’ve got to send me the money so he can receive treatment. He’ll die without it.”
“I won’t let my son die! I’ll pay,” Walter replied and hung up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Hearing Abby confirm she was behind Logan’s kidnapping broke his heart all over again. It took a few minutes before he pulled himself together enough to send her an immediate payment via his money transfer app. Now, all he had to do was wait.
***
Tears trailed down Walter’s cheeks when his little brother, James, entered the hospital with Abby. James held Logan against his chest while Abby spoke to the receptionist.
It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as the police officers and FBI agents came forward and surrounded Abby and James. Walter had informed the cops beforehand.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” an FBI agent called out. “Hand the child over, nice and slowly, and raise your hands.”
“Get away from us!” Abby shrieked as she moved to stand between the FBI agent and Logan. “My son is sick. He needs to see a doctor.”
“No, he isn’t,” Walter called out as he approached the group. “There’s nothing wrong with Logan at all.”
Abby’s gaze locked onto him. Walter watched as the fear and uncertainty in her eyes shifted into red-hot fury. She rushed forward as though to attack him. But the police tackled her. She and James were arrested.
Walter hugged his son, relieved to have him back. But Abby wasn’t done yet.
“You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in the family!” she yelled.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Walter froze. He looked at his brother, who wouldn’t even raise his head to look at him. It pained Walter. But nothing mattered because he had Logan with him.
“I will adopt him if that’s what I have to do!” he shot back. “I will watch him grow up while you two rot behind bars!” he said and left with Logan.
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