For Nancy, her son Henry was everything; she could not imagine life without him. It had been 23 years since the terrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she brought his favorite pie to his grave to remember him. But this year, something was about to change.
For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, had never missed a single year on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave each year since he passed away.
The pie, a simple but delicious apple and cinnamon treat, had been Henry’s favorite since he was a child.
The smell of apples and cinnamon reminded her of when Henry was young, running into the kitchen with his eyes shining at the sight of the pie.
On this day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.
The dish felt heavier as she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, showing how much he was still loved.
The stone had become smoother over the years because she often ran her fingers over it, lost in her memories.
Nancy knelt and placed the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as if Henry might somehow hear her.
“Henry, I hope you’re at peace, my love. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Remember how we used to bake it together? You always snuck a taste before it was done.”
She smiled, but her eyes were misty with tears. “I wish we could do that one more time.”
The familiar sorrow welled up inside her, but Nancy had learned over the years to push through the tears.
She quickly wiped her eyes and managed a small smile. After a few more moments of silence, she kissed her fingers and touched the top of the gravestone as she said her quiet goodbye.
Then, with a heavy but comforted heart, she turned and walked away, knowing she would be back next year, just like always.
The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy returned to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.
Usually, by the time she returned, the pie was either untouched or spoiled by the weather, a quiet reminder of her son’s absence.
She found it bittersweet, knowing the pie stayed where she left it, as if waiting for him.
But today, as she approached the grave, something felt different. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the plate was clean—completely empty. For a moment, she stood frozen in disbelief.
Then, she noticed something else. Resting on the plate was a small piece of paper, folded in half.
Nancy’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her breath caught in her throat as she unfolded it.
The handwriting was shaky, as though the writer had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.
“Who took Henry’s pie?” she muttered under her breath, clutching the note tightly. “This was for my son. No one had the right to touch it!”
Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been disturbed by a stranger.
She felt violated, as if someone had stolen a piece of her grief.
With her emotions swirling—part outrage, part confusion—Nancy left the cemetery, determined to find the person who had taken her son’s pie. She needed to know who had done this and why.
Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided to take action. She couldn’t let someone continue to disrupt how she honored Henry. So, she made a plan.
That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over twenty years.
The next morning, with renewed resolve, she placed the freshly baked pie on Henry’s grave, just like before, but this time she wasn’t leaving.
She found a large oak tree nearby and hid behind it, close enough to see the grave but far enough to not be noticed.
The warm aroma of the pie drifted through the air, filling the quiet cemetery.
Time passed slowly as Nancy watched and waited, her heart racing in anticipation.
An hour later, she spotted movement. A small figure cautiously approached the grave. Nancy squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.
It wasn’t the greedy thief she had imagined. No, this was something entirely different.
A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with careful steps.
Nancy’s heart tightened as she watched him. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie.
Instead, he knelt by the grave and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of paper and a dull pencil. His hand trembled as he carefully scribbled something on the paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.
It was clear the boy struggled with writing, but he took his time, making sure each word was clear.
Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief; he was just a hungry child, grateful for the kindness of a pie left behind.
The anger that had once consumed Nancy melted away in an instant. She realized this boy wasn’t stealing; he was surviving. He was in need, and her son’s favorite pie had brought him comfort.
As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.
The rustle of leaves under her feet made him freeze, wide-eyed. Startled, he dropped the pie, and it tumbled onto the grass. His face paled, and he backed away, looking terrified.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”
Nancy’s heart softened instantly. The sight of him—thin, dirty, and scared—erased any anger she had felt before.
She knelt beside him, speaking gently, her voice as comforting as she could make it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you. Where are your parents?” she asked. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked, understanding that the boy had nowhere to go.
“Jimmy,” he muttered, still avoiding her eyes, ashamed of what he had done.
“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to steal pies. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”
Jimmy looked up at her, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I just… I don’t get to eat much, and that pie was the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Nancy’s heart ached for him, and her mind filled with thoughts of how different this boy’s life must be.
The hunger in his eyes reminded her of her own son, Henry, when he eagerly waited for that first bite of her freshly baked pie.
But Henry never had to worry about where his next meal would come from. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for a long time.
“Come with me,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She stood up and reached out her hand to him. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt.
Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.
She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.
Baking had always been her way of showing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.
When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding just the right amount of cinnamon—just as she had done many times before.
Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.
The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.
Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.
“This one’s all for you.”
Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, and his eyes sparkled as he chewed.
“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.
She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.
As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.
She had always dreamed of seeing her son eat his favorite pie again, watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.
But now, in some strange and unexpected way, she was sharing it with another boy who needed it just as much.
Watching Jimmy eat, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be.
Maybe fate had brought Jimmy into her life for a reason. By feeding him, by offering kindness when he needed it most, she was honoring Henry’s memory in a way she had never imagined.
For the first time in years, Nancy felt that her grief had led her to something beautiful—a connection, a purpose that gave new meaning to her life.
Maybe, just maybe, this was Henry’s way of sending her a message—that love and kindness should always find their way back to those in need.
Nancy smiled as she watched Jimmy finish the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth and gratitude.
She had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely place, and it filled her soul in a way that nothing else had in years.
After Mom’s Death, Woman Leaves Sister 3 Dollar Bills and a Note as Her Inheritance – Story of the Day
When Julia and Helga’s father passed away, Helga fought their mother, Mrs. Hanson, for the inheritance. She said some horrible things, and Julie and Mrs. Hanson came up with a shocking plan to teach her a huge lesson.
“HOW DARE YOU?” Helga screamed at her mother, Mrs. Hanson, over the phone. Julia heard the entire thing from the kitchen, even though her mother was using the telephone in the living room and it wasn’t on speakerphone. Julia’s sister was angry that her mother had decided her will.
She would leave Helga 30% of the estate, while Julia would receive everything else. It wasn’t an equal division, but Mrs. Hanson felt that Julia deserved the money more than Helga because they had a better relationship. Helga and her husband had always been greedy and selfish, visiting or calling them only when they wanted something.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But the older woman was being generous. At first, Helga would not receive anything due to how she spoke to her mother. However, they recently had a set of twin babies at a relatively old age, as Helga was 47 and her husband was 51. Therefore, Mrs. Hanson decided to give her something. Unfortunately, Helga was not happy about it.
“Helga, please don’t yell,” Mrs. Hanson told her daughter on the phone and watched as Julia approached. She decided to put the call on speakerphone from then on.
“I knew you would see reason, Julia. Our mother was so obstinate.”
“MOTHER! You can’t just give everything to Julia! She doesn’t even have children. Don’t you care about the twins? They deserve their share of the money!” Helga exclaimed, not knowing that Julia was listening.
“Helga, it doesn’t matter whether Julia has kids or not. She sacrificed so much of her life to take care of your father and me, whereas you didn’t. Also, you’re married. You have a support system. On the other hand, this is my money, and I get to decide who receives it,” Mrs. Hanson reasoned. But this wasn’t the answer Helga wanted.
“I DON’T CARE WHAT JULIA HAS DONE! YOU KNOW WHAT? I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO DIE, AND I’LL SUE FOR MY SHARE! GOODBYE!” Helga screamed spitefully and ended the call abruptly.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Mrs. Hanson placed her forehead on her hand and breathed deeply. Julia was finally angry, but she couldn’t show it. She couldn’t believe her sister would say something so horrible to their mother.
“Mom, she’s just angry. She didn’t mean that,” lied Julia to console her mother, but Mrs. Hanson knew the truth. Helga meant it and would fight tooth and nail for a more significant share in the will. Luckily, their lawyer in Washington D.C. told them that as long as Helga received something, she wouldn’t be able to contest it.
Over the next few months, Helga called several times to persuade Mrs. Hanson to change her will. These conversations always ended in huge fights that took a serious toll on the older woman, and Julia became even angrier at her sister.
Finally, their mother died, and Helga made a scene at the funeral, pretending to be in so much distress over her passing. Fortunately, most relatives knew her real character, although they didn’t know how awful she had been during the last few months of Mrs. Hanson’s life.
After the funeral, Helga started calling Julia about the money. They both received their share, but it seemed like her sister was now going to be nasty to Julia until she complied and gave her some more money.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Finally, Julia came up with a plan. During one phone call, she revealed her idea to Helga. “Ok, listen. I want to move to New York, so I’m going to sell Mom’s house for good. I’ll give you 50% of the sale, although the house is in my name. Does this seem fair?” she asked her sister.
“Oh, that’s fantastic, Julia! Thank you! I knew you would see reason. Our mother was so obstinate. You’re the best aunt to the twins ever. I swear this is all for their future,” Helga gushed over the phone. Julia didn’t know if she was genuinely planning on putting the money towards her children, but it didn’t matter because Julia was lying.
The sale of the house went quickly because it was located in a pretty great area of the capital, and there were tons of buyers. Helga was salivating at the idea of receiving half of the house sale. Julia thought she didn’t deserve it at all.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Ok, I’m going to place your part of the money in a bank account, and I’ll send you the details later. Is that alright?” Julia asked her sister when they had coffee right before she left for New York.
“Of course! Of course! Though, I’m going to miss you so much!” Helga said with a smile that Julia didn’t trust at all.
“Cool, well, goodbye,” Julia replied, standing up and giving her sister the most awkward hug in the world. But Helga placed all her acting chops on the embrace, pretending like she was indeed going to miss her sister.
A week after Julia left the state, she finally sent her sister the details to the safety deposit box.
“Your sister couldn’t just wire the money to our account?” Helga’s husband asked, thinking this procedure odd.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“She’s an idiot. You know that. I’ll go to the bank right now and check things out,” Helga responded, smiling cattily.
But at the bank, she was taken to the safety deposit box and saw three $1 bills inside it. “That’s all?” she asked aloud and finally noticed the note inside next to the bills. It read: “That’s all you deserve.”
Helga’s screams and cries were heard through the entire bank that day. But Julia had blocked her, and they never saw each other again.
What can we learn from this story?
- Greediness leads to nothing. Helga treated everyone horribly and only wanted money. She received nothing in the end.
- Follow your relative’s wishes. Although Helga pestered her terribly, Julia didn’t want to go against her mother’s desires.
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