A man who lost his family chooses to adopt a little boy that no one wants because he has Down syndrome. Years later, a lawyer contacts him with surprising news.
David walked back and forth in the hospital waiting room. His brother Jack said, “Calm down, Dave! You’d think no one ever had a baby before!”
David smiled. “I know,” he replied. “I’m just really nervous! I’ve always wanted to be a dad!”
Source: Unsplash
Jack smiled and patted his brother on the back. “Get ready to be a dad, my man!” Just then, the doctor walked in and went straight to David. The look on his face made all the laughter stop, and David knew something was wrong.
The doctor said it was one of those rare accidents that had cost Rita and their baby their lives. David listened calmly and nodded in the right places.
He didn’t even cry, but when he tried to walk, his knees gave out. A crying Jack had to help his brother and carry him home like a child.
Days later, after Rita and their baby were buried, and everyone seemed ready to forget, David woke up in a quiet house. He reached out to Rita’s side of the bed. Empty.
Parents often make heartbreaking decisions for their children’s welfare.
He got up and walked down the hall to the nursery and turned on the nightlight that shone soft stars on the ceiling. He and Rita had filled that room with both hope and sadness. Now it was all gone.
David sat in the rocking chair Rita insisted they needed and cried. His heart and home were empty, and his dreams were lost. He wanted to tear that nursery apart to escape that emptiness.
Suddenly, a thought came to him. “You can’t fill a hole with anger, only with love.” Who said that? David wondered. He had heard it somewhere before. Maybe that idea could save him.
David contacted social services to ask about adopting or fostering a child. At first, the social worker hesitated. “We don’t usually give children to single parents,” she said. “But it’s becoming more common.”
“I have a good life,” David said. “I have so much love to give a child. My wife and I dreamed of being parents, and I want to make that dream come true.”
The social worker picked up a file with colorful stickers. “Would you consider a child with special needs?” she asked.
David shrugged. “All children are special. They all have needs,” he said softly. “We never know what life might bring. I want to help the child who needs me.”
David had to go through many interviews and attend parenting workshops, but soon, the big day arrived. They told him he had a son.
“We have a little boy who has been in three different foster families,” the social worker said. “His name is Sam, and he is two years old. He has Down syndrome…”
“Where is he?” David asked.
“Sam has some health issues you should know about,” the social worker replied.
“I’ll take him to the doctor,” David said. “Whatever he needs, he will get.”
When David met Sam, it was love at first sight. Sam was the cutest little boy he had ever seen!
At first, Sam was shy, but when he felt David’s love and care, he slowly opened up. David couldn’t understand how anyone could not want such a sweet child!
It took Sam a little longer to reach his milestones, and the doctor said they needed to watch his heart, but in almost every way, he was perfect!
The best part of David’s day was when he picked Sam up from daycare, and his little boy ran to him with open arms. David would lift Sam high and tickle his belly, and his heart was filled with joy.
“Rita,” he’d whisper to his late wife as he watched Sam sleep. “I made our dream come true. I filled the hole you and our baby left in my life with love.”
The years passed, and Sam grew just like any other child. The doctor said his heart was doing well. He was a happy boy who made friends with everyone he met. No one could resist Sam and his big smile!
The phone rang constantly with invites for sleepovers and playdates, and David could hardly keep up with Sam’s busy social life!
When Sam turned twelve, he wanted to hang out with friends on his own like the big boy he was. It was hard for David, but like every parent, he learned to give his son space.
One day, he got a phone call from a lawyer. “Mr. Wallace,” the man said. “I’m calling about your adoptive son’s birth parent…”
“What do you want?” David asked sharply.
“I would like to talk to you…” the lawyer replied.
“I’m not interested,” David said. “Those people abandoned my son. There’s nothing you could say that I want to hear.”
“Please, Mr. Wallace,” the lawyer said. “For Sam’s sake.”
Reluctantly, David agreed to meet the lawyer. When he arrived, the man handed David a letter. “This will explain everything much better than I can, Mr. Wallace,” he said.
David opened the envelope and began reading: “Dear Mr. Wallace, if you are reading this, I am finally at peace with my wife. Thank you for loving my dear Sam and taking care of him.
“Before Sam was born, the doctors told us he had Down syndrome, but it didn’t matter to us. We welcomed him with joy. We thought we would have many happy years as a family, but it was not to be.
“When Sam was three months old, he had some tests at the hospital. My wife, Emily, and I went to pick him up, and we were hit by a truck.
“Emily died instantly, and I survived but became paralyzed. For twelve years, I felt like a dead man who still breathed and cried.
“I was not the father Sam deserved. I wanted better for him, so I placed him for adoption. I was right, Mr. Wallace, because you took my boy in and have been the best father.
“One day, I hope you can tell Sam that his birth parents loved him and wanted him. I never want him to think we abandoned him.
“Please, tell him! My lawyer will give you the papers for Sam’s trust fund, which will be in your care. Thank you again, Mr. Wallace, for loving my Sam and for being the father I should have been.”
The lawyer gave David access to Sam’s trust fund, which was worth $1.2 million. David promised to use the money to secure his son’s future, just as his biological father wished.
David thought about the families who had turned away from Sam. Would they have rejected him if they had known about the money? Sam’s biological father was right to hide the fortune so that his son could be loved for who he truly was.
I Looked After My Elderly Neighbor, but Her Son Blamed Me for Not Doing Enough – The Fallout Was Harsh
Debbie, living in a quiet neighborhood, becomes close to her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, and begins to care for her. But when Deb’s mother has to undergo surgery, she has no option but to go home and care for her mother… only for her to receive a horrible phone call from Steve, Mrs. Jenkins’ son, accusing her of not doing enough.
Look, I didn’t want revenge on anybody, especially not for just being kind to an elderly neighbor.
I live in a quiet neighborhood, and my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, is an 82-year-old widow. She’s frail, lonely, and honestly, sad. It’s like she’s been forgotten by her own family. Her only son, Steve, lives just 20 minutes away but rarely visits.
Whenever I saw her on the porch, she seemed so lost, staring off into the distance. My heart went out to her, so I started helping where I could.
For over a year, I’ve been running small errands. Groceries, appointments, clearing her driveway of leaves in the fall and snow in the winter.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Debbie,” she said to me one morning after I dropped off her groceries, including some freshly baked bread for her breakfast.
“I’m here for anything you need, Marlene,” I said.
Honestly, it wasn’t much, but I felt good knowing that I was helping. Especially since her real family was so absent.
“Steve?” she said one day when I asked about him. “That kid means everything to me, but I know I don’t mean as much to my son. It’s okay. You’re here.”
She would always smile like I was her favorite person.
This man, who barely knew his mother’s daily life, had the audacity to accuse me of not doing enough.
But things took a dark turn when I had to leave town for a few weeks. I couldn’t help it, my mother was in the hospital after being diagnosed with fibroids and cysts that needed to be removed.
I had to be there with her. There was no way about it.
“I’m coming, Mom,” I said. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“But, Deb,” my mother whined. “I don’t want to disturb your routine. Dad’s here, I’ll be fine with him.”
“Mom, I work from home. I can work from anywhere,” I said sternly. “And anyway, Dad’s idea of taking care of someone is making chicken noodle soup. That’s pretty much it. You’re going for invasive surgery. You need me.”
Before I left, I stocked Mrs. Jenkins’ house with groceries, made sure that she had everything she needed, and asked our neighbor Karen to check in on her from time to time.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Marlene,” I said. “Don’t you worry about a thing. And I’ve asked little Josh to come over and check your mail. He knows that if there’s anything in your mailbox, he has to bring it right to you.”
“Thank you, darling,” she said. “You’re too good to me.”
I thought I’d covered all my bases.
Ten days into my stay with my parents, my phone rang while I was cooking dinner. I didn’t recognize the number, but I picked up anyway.
“Debbie?” the voice snapped when I answered. “Are you the neighbor who’s supposed to be taking care of my mom?”
It was Steve. Mrs. Jenkins’ son. The man who barely showed up for his own mother.
For a second, I got nervous, hoping that nothing had happened to her.
“I just got a call from my mother,” he continued, not even stopping for me to speak. “She ran out of milk. And you’re out of town? Why didn’t you make sure she had enough before you left?”
I was absolutely floored. This man, who barely knew his mother’s daily life, had the audacity to accuse me of not doing enough.
Me?
“Steve,” I said, trying to remain calm. “I’m out of town because my mom is in the hospital. This is where I need to be. I stocked your mom up before I left. And I spoke to Karen, our neighbor, to check on her.”
Instead of apologizing or offering to help like any normal person, he shot back.
“Well, that’s just not good enough, Debbie. If you’re going to take care of my mother, then you need to do it right! I can’t be running around getting her things whenever you drop the ball.”
I almost screamed. The audacity of this man was astounding.
How could he accuse me of dropping the ball when I’d been doing everything for her? Especially while he sat back and did nothing!
I took a deep breath.
“Steve, she’s your mother. You can’t expect me to do everything for her while you’re right there, and do nothing! Maybe you should help her out for once.”
His response was just sad.
“You’re pathetic,” he said. “You don’t even do that much for her.”
Before I could retaliate, I just cut the call. I didn’t want to say anything worse, and I also didn’t want to risk it getting back to Marlene and upsetting her.
Later, as I sat with my mom in her hospital room, I couldn’t stop replaying that conversation. By the time I got home, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
“Go home, honey,” my mother said when I told her about Steve’s phone call. “I’m doing just fine, and my progress is great. The doctor is really happy with me. I told you, Dad and I will be fine!”
I really didn’t want to leave, but I missed my own home. And I missed working from my own space, too. So, I left a few days later.
When I got back, the first thing I did was check on Mrs. Jenkins. Thankfully, she was fine. It turns out that Karen had taken care of the milk situation, and Mrs. Jenkins had no idea about the chaos Steve had stirred up.
“What? Really? He said that?” she exclaimed, shocked.
Steve had to step up. He was not happy about it. Not at all.
As glad as I was that Steve hadn’t fed her any stories about me, I wasn’t going to allow him to get away with this.
The next day, I gently told Mrs. Jenkins that I wouldn’t be able to help her as much anymore.
“I have other commitments, Marlene,” I said sadly. “I have to check on my mother more often, too. She’s going to need me for the next few weeks.”
She looked disappointed, but she reassured me that she understood.
A few weeks went by, and Steve had no choice but to step up. Naturally, he wasn’t happy about it. Sometimes, as I worked from my living room, I could see him showing up to his mother’s house. He always looked irritated, like running an errand for his mother was the biggest burden anyone could have placed on him.
When I did visit Mrs. Jenkins next, she smiled and told me that she was relying on Steve more.
“I call him for everything,” she said. “Milk, teabags, and even help with the gutters.”
One afternoon, Mrs. Jenkins asked me to help her sort through some old papers. That’s when we stumbled upon her will.
Naturally, Steve was listed as the sole beneficiary.
“It’s a shame that Steve cannot spend more time with you,” I said casually. “You know, with work and whatnot.”
“I know, dear,” Mrs. Jenkins sighed. “But he’s been like that. Sometimes I think he only sticks around for what I’ll leave him.”
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“You know, Marlene,” I said. “You don’t have to leave everything to Steve. It might be nice to donate some to charity or leave something for the people who have always been there for you. That’s a sweet gesture. Think about it.”
“You’re right, Debbie,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
A week later, Mrs. Jenkins updated her will. Steve still got his share, but she also included several charities to get vast portions of her estate. She left a little something for me, too, though I didn’t ask for it.
It wasn’t about the money. It was about showing Steve that neglect and greed have consequences.
When Steve found out, he stormed to my house, knocking furiously on my door.
“You convinced my mother to give away my inheritance? You manipulative little…”
I cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
“I didn’t convince her of anything. Maybe if you spent more time with her, you’d know what she really wanted.”
Steve spluttered, his face turning red. He shouted a few more insults and stormed off, but I could see it in his eyes.
He knew that he had lost.
Now, the lovely Mrs. Jenkins is happier than ever, and I’m taking her to the ballet later this week. Steve is sulking, likely regretting all the time he wasted.
Advertisement
And as for me? I’m happy knowing that Mrs. Jenkins isn’t being taken advantage of by Steve.
Sometimes, the best revenge is just letting someone realize their own failure.
What would you have done?
Leave a Reply