My Sassy Stepmom and Her 4 Adult Kids Wore All White to My Dad’s Funeral – Everyone Gasped When She Took Out a Letter

I expected my father’s funeral to be a day of quiet mourning, a time to honor the man who had held our family together. What I didn’t expect was my stepmom turning it into her personal drama — until a letter from my dad revealed secrets that left her and her kids humiliated in front of everyone.

The day of my dad’s funeral was already one of the hardest days of my life. I’d barely managed to keep myself from breaking down that morning, knowing I was about to say goodbye to the man who had held our family together.

Emotional woman at her dad's funeral | Source: Midjourney

Emotional woman at her dad’s funeral | Source: Midjourney

He’d been sick for a long time, and while we all saw this day coming, nothing prepared me for the suffocating weight of it when it finally arrived.

And then they showed up.

Vivian, my stepmom, waltzed in like she was on a runway, her four adult kids trailing behind her, all dressed in white. Stark, glaring white — like they’d gotten lost on the way to a fancy yacht party.

Everyone else was draped in black, heads bowed, grieving. But not them. No, they strutted in like they were attending some exclusive event, turning heads for all the wrong reasons.

Senior woman and her children wearing white at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman and her children wearing white at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My chest tightened with anger as I pushed through the crowd and made a beeline for her.

“Vivian,” I snapped, my voice low but sharp enough to cut through the soft murmurs around us, “what the hell are you doing? Why are you dressed like—” I gestured wildly at her flowing white dress and her kids’ matching outfits, “—like this at my dad’s funeral?”

She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she gave me this lazy, condescending smile that only made my blood boil more.

Senior woman and young lady talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman and young lady talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, dragging out the words like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t get all worked up. Your father wanted this.”

“Wanted this?” I repeated, my voice rising despite my best efforts to stay calm. “There’s no way Dad would’ve—”

She cut me off, reaching into her designer handbag and pulling out a neatly folded envelope. “He wrote me a letter,” she said, holding it out as if it explained everything. “Told me, ‘Vivian, you and the kids are to wear white. It’s my last wish.’”

Senior woman holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney

I stared at the letter in her hand, feeling the eyes of everyone around us. Whispers were already starting to spread through the crowd.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way he—”

“He did, darling,” she interrupted with a sigh, her eyes gleaming as though she was enjoying the scene. “He told me it was going to be something special. You should be grateful we’re honoring his wishes.”

I could hear people gasping behind me, the tension in the room rising with every passing second.

“Are you serious?” I demanded, my voice trembling now. “You really expect me to believe Dad wanted this — to turn his funeral into some… spectacle?”

Senior woman and young lady talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman and young lady talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Vivian shrugged, tucking the letter back into her bag. “Believe whatever you want,” she said coolly, “but we’re just following his final instructions. It’s what he wanted.”

I could feel my hands shaking, the rage bubbling up inside me, but before I could say another word, she turned to her kids and said, “Come on, let’s go take our seats. We don’t want to be late.”

I stood there, speechless, as they sauntered toward the front row, leaving me to simmer in a storm of confusion and fury.

Sad young lady at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Sad young lady at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

The ceremony began, and sure enough, she and her kids took their place in the front row, dressed like they were VIPs at some fancy gala. They soaked in the attention, their white clothes practically glowing against the backdrop of mourners in black.

Just when I thought I couldn’t handle their arrogance anymore, Joe, my dad’s best friend, stepped up to the front. His face was tight with emotion, eyes heavy with grief, but there was something else there too — a tension that made my stomach twist.

Senior man giving a speech at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man giving a speech at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

He cleared his throat, the room going completely silent as everyone turned their gaze toward him. In his hand, he held a letter.

“Vivian,” he said, his voice firm but calm. He gestured for her to stand, and I could see the tiniest hint of a smirk play on her lips. She rose slowly, her chin lifted like she was about to accept an award. Her kids followed, standing beside her with smug looks of their own.

“This letter…” Joe began, his voice wavering just slightly, “was written by your husband.”

Joe’s voice was steady as he began to read from the letter, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

“To my dearest friends and family,” Joe read, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to thank you all for being here today, for honoring my memory. There’s something I need to address, something that’s been weighing on my heart.”

I glanced at Vivian. Her expression, once smug and superior, began to shift. A flicker of unease crept into her eyes as she straightened, her gaze darting nervously around the room.

Senior woman wearing a white dress at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman wearing a white dress at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Joe continued, “I couldn’t help but notice that during my illness, my ex-wife, Martha, was the one who took care of me. She was there when I needed someone the most, while Vivian and her kids were always absent — unless, of course, they needed something from me.”

Vivian’s face drained of color. She stood rigidly, frozen as if willing herself to disappear.

Her kids, who had been sitting confidently, were now nervous, their eyes wide with fear.

Young adults wearing white at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Young adults wearing white at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Murmurs rippled through the crowd like a wave, and I could see people exchanging shocked glances.

“That’s not true!” Vivian suddenly hissed under her breath, but her voice cracked, betraying her fear.

Joe barely paused. “It became clear to me that my new family was more interested in what I could provide than in who I was. And then,” he glanced pointedly at Vivian, “I found out, through my financial adviser, that money had been disappearing from my accounts. We investigated and discovered that Vivian and her children were behind it.”

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

A collective gasp filled the room. It felt like the walls themselves shuddered with the sound. Vivian’s kids, who had been sitting so confidently, now looked as pale as ghosts, as the eyes of every guest bore down on them.

Vivian’s face contorted in anger, her mask of calm shattering completely. “This is a lie!” she yelled, her voice trembling with fury. “A complete fabrication! You can’t believe this garbage!”

Her hands clenched into fists as she looked wildly around the room as if searching for someone to step in and defend her.

But no one spoke. The silence was deafening.

Joe’s gaze didn’t waver. He raised the letter again and continued, his voice unwavering.

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

“I knew they would come to my funeral, expecting to play the role of the grieving family. So, I asked them to wear white. I wanted them to stand out, so everyone could see them for what they are.”

Vivian gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You bastard,” she spat, her voice shaking with venomous rage. “You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone like this? You’ll regret this! You all will!”

But Joe didn’t stop. His voice rang out loud and clear, cutting through her rage like a blade. “Vivian, you and your children are no longer welcome here. This is a place for those who loved me for who I was, not for what I could give them. Please leave, and let my true family and friends mourn in peace.”

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man reading a letter at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

The silence was suffocating. Every eye in the room was fixed on Vivian and her kids, waiting for their next move. Her face was a chaotic swirl of emotions — shock, rage, humiliation. For a split second, it seemed like she might explode, her eyes wild with fury.

But then, she glanced around and saw the faces of the guests — cold, unforgiving glares. The weight of judgment pressed down on her, and whatever fight she had left in her fizzled out.

Crowd at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Crowd at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Her kids, once so full of smug confidence, shrank under the scrutiny, their eyes fixed on the floor as if they could disappear into it.

Vivian huffed loudly, her lips curling in disgust. “Fine! This whole thing is a farce anyway,” she spat, yanking her purse from the chair. Her voice dripped with venom, but everyone could see she was cornered. Defeated. “Come on,” she snapped at her kids, her voice sharp as broken glass.

Vivian stormed toward the exit, her heels clicking against the floor with a fury that couldn’t hide her humiliation.

She was finished, and she knew it.

Senior woman walking out of a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman walking out of a funeral | Source: Midjourney

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving a thick silence in their wake. No one moved for a long moment, as if the room was exhaling after the storm.

Joe calmly folded the letter, his eyes scanning the room with a somber expression. “Now,” he said, his voice steady, “let’s continue with remembering the man who truly deserves to be honored today.”

Senior man giving a speech at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

Senior man giving a speech at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

And so we did. The ceremony went on peacefully, a celebration of my dad’s life surrounded by the people who had loved him for who he was. We laughed, we cried, and we shared stories that captured the essence of the man who had brought us all together.

As for Vivian? She got exactly what she deserved — an exit cloaked in shame and disgrace. My dad, even in death, had the last laugh. He had exposed them, stripped away their pretenses, and made sure the truth came out in the end.

Close-up shot of a casket | Source: Midjourney

Close-up shot of a casket | Source: Midjourney

My dad may have been gone, but his wisdom — his sense of justice — was alive and well. And as I listened to Joe recount a funny story about my dad, one thing was clear.

“Dad always knew how to pick his moments,” I whispered.

Younng lady at her father's funeral | Source: Midjourney

Younng lady at her father’s funeral | Source: Midjourney

If you liked this story, here’s another one that will grab your attention: My stepmom made me sleep in a shed and gave my room to her kids — my mom immediately brought her back down to Earth.

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.

‘I’m Waiting for Mom,’ Girl Says to Park Janitor, Next Day He Sees Her Still Sitting at Same Spot – Story of the Day

A park janitor meets a lonely little girl who says she is waiting for her mom. He is surprised when he sees her again the next day, still sitting on the same bench, and calls the police.

Albert Fairchild was the custodian of a lovely old Victorian park in the middle of the city, and his time was spent making sure it was a little corner of heaven, a place where lovers met, and people went to get in touch with nature or for a little peace of mind.

He loved his job. Every day he wandered through the park, raking the paths, emptying the bins, and making sure everything was perfect, and twice a week, the city gardeners came around to take care of the lawns, trees, and plants.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

One afternoon, Albert saw a little girl sitting quietly at one of the park’s picnic tables, coloring in a picture book. She was surely no more than four or five, but she was all alone! Albert looked around, but he couldn’t see her parents. Something had to be wrong…

Albert approached the little girl and greeted her. “Hello there, little miss. What are you doing out here all on your own? Trying to catch the fairies?”

The little girl looked up at Albert. “You’re a stranger, and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said.

“No, you are not,” Albert agreed. “But you’ll see I’m not asking you to go anywhere with me, and I’m not offering you candy. I just want to know where your mom is and why you’re alone.”

“I’m waiting for mom,” the child said. “She had a job interview across the road, and she asked me to wait here for her. Mom said not to talk to strangers and not to go anywhere. I have my juice and a snack, and she will be back very soon!”

Nothing is impossible, so keep going until you accomplish what you want.

Albert frowned. It wasn’t exactly safe to leave a child in a public park, but he knew that sometimes single moms with no resources or family had to do the best they could — and it sounded as if this mom was unemployed and desperate to boot.

“What’s your name, little miss?” Albert asked.

The girl giggled. “My name is Margaret,” she said.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“That’s a HUGE name!” exclaimed Albert. “It’s three times as big as you are!”

“My mom calls me Meg,” she confessed, laughing. “And I DON’T believe in fairies!”

Albert gasped and clutched at his heart. “I’m shocked, little miss Meg!” he laughed. “I believe in fairies. In fact, I see them all the time! I have to chase them away from the fountains ’cause they insist on taking showers and breaking the rainbows!”

Meg was grinning. “That’s a LIE!” she giggled. “That’s BAD!”

“Well,” Albert said. “I have a lot of work to do, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you, making sure the fairies don’t pull your pigtails. If you need me, Meg, just holler, and I’ll come running, OK?”

Albert walked away, but he kept glancing back over his shoulder. He wished he had a little person just like Meg in his life, a little granddaughter, but he knew it was not to be.

He could not help but pause his work and silently cry as the little girl reminded him of his own granddaughter and the fateful tragedy that toppled his life.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

Five years ago, Albert was a cop who loved his duty more than anything else. At home, he was a loving and caring husband, a doting father, and an adorable grandfather. “But if it had not been for that day…” Albert reminisced about the fateful day.

It was a pleasant Sunday in May that year. Albert’s family was leaving on a much-awaited dream vacation by the sea in the neighboring city. He had taken a week off to enjoy himself with his family. Albert still remembered his granddaughter Emily running back inside to bring her teddy bear, Chelsea.

“How happy she was that morning!” he thought. Her laughter still haunted him because he never got to see her again. Albert wanted to drive and wouldn’t leave the driver’s seat even when his son-in-law, Josh, persuaded and pleaded.

“It’s your day, dad! I will drive. You need to rest and enjoy this trip,” he told Albert, who refused to get down from his minivan. Albert would’ve never moved out if it were not for a sudden call from the station.

“I’m on my way,” he spoke. “I got to go. I got an important lead for an investigation. You guys get going. I’ll catch up tomorrow evening!” he told his family. They were disappointed, especially little Emily. She wanted to sing songs and play with Albert.

“Sweetie, grandpa will be there tomorrow. It’s just a day!”

Albert and Emily blew endless flying kisses as the minivan sped past the gate. Albert left for work immediately, and it was almost time to return home in the evening when he got a call from the city station.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

An hour later, he was taken to the morgue in the city hospital. His heart dropped when four stretchers were wheeled out, the last was Emily’s. His whole world was destroyed in a car crash.

“The minivan lost control and rammed into a truck,” officers told him, patting his shoulder. In a wink, Albert had lost his family, and there was no coming back. No more laughter. No more vacations. And no more loud cries of a little girl shouting, ‘Grandpa! I’m home!’

Albert could not forgive himself. “I should have driven that minivan. I shouldn’t have allowed Josh to drive it,” he thought and cried over a million times. But nothing was going to change.

“Jose, I should’ve canceled that trip. I should’ve never let them go,” he cried to his best friend at the funeral, placing Emily’s teddy bear, Chelsea, on her grave.

Days, months, and five years passed. These questions still haunted Albert, but it didn’t matter to him. He knew he had lost his family forever. They were not going to come back; it was the ugly truth he had learned to embrace over time.

Albert could not focus on his work. The cop job he loved became a constant reminder of his tragic life. He quit it and started taking care of the park. He just wanted to stay away from everything that reminded him of his loss.

A gush of wind snapped Albert to the present as he wiped away his tears. The evening sun irritated his teary eyes as he looked around for the little girl. “Where is she??” he exclaimed when he saw Meg was not in her place.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Albert hastily looked around the park for the girl. But she was not there. “Maybe her mother took her,” he thought. Convinced Meg had gone home, Albert finished raking the lawn and went home.

But the following morning, when he returned to the park, he saw Meg again, sitting in the same spot, wearing the same dress, and holding her teddy. Albert was stunned.

“Hey, there, little miss!” he greeted the girl. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Mommy didn’t come,” she disappointedly said. “She never came for me.”

“What?? Where did you go last evening, then? And where did you sleep?”

“Home,” Meg replied, resting her teary face on her teddy. She refused to look up at Albert. She was least interested in talking to him and kept looking around to see if her mother had come to take her.

“What happened to her mother?” Albert wondered.

“Hey, there, I’m a former policeman. You can trust me, alright?” he said. “I’m afraid your mother got lost in this huge city. Can you take me to your home? We will find your mother, alright?”

But Meg wouldn’t move. Her strong belief her mother would come for her didn’t let her move from that bench.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

“Meg, listen, I know you are frightened. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can trust me, okay? What’s your mother’s name?”

When Meg told Albert her mother’s name, she had difficulty pronouncing the surname. Albert asked Meg to repeat the word several times because he knew he could not search for her mother without knowing the surname. He needed her full name to probe everywhere, including online databases. After hearing Meg out repeatedly, Albert guessed her mom’s surname could be ‘D’Cruz.’

“Listen, we need to go to your home. Do you want to see your mother?”

“Yes, I want to see mommy,” Meg replied, finally looking at Albert.

“Then take me to your house.”

Moments later, Meg led Albert to a tarp tent under a secluded bridge not far from the park’s entrance. “This is my home,” she pointed.

Albert partially understood Meg and her mother were homeless. He inspected the tarp tent that barely had an old mattress and a camping stove with a pot smelling of stale porridge. There were a few old clothes of Meg’s in the tent, but no photos or pictures. At first glance, he thought Meg’s mother could’ve abandoned her. But something still didn’t add up to him.

“How long have you been living here?” he asked the girl.

“Few weeks,” replied Meg. “We once had a big house. But big, angry men in uniform shouted at my mommy for not giving money. Mommy cried, and even I cried. They threw our things out, and mommy brought me here.”

Albert once again checked the tent for clues but apparently found nothing that could help him find Meg’s mother. “Do you have your mother’s photo?”

“No, I had one, but it’s with mommy.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

Albert was puzzled about what to do next. “I cannot leave the girl alone here,” he thought, and before he could fathom anything, Meg asked him to take her back to the park.

“Mommy told me to wait there and not go anywhere. If she comes, she will scold me. Please take me to the park.”

Albert did not know what to do and agreed. Meg and he returned to the park, and he sat her down on the bench. Albert knew Meg would have starved the whole night, so he gave her his lunch.

“Mommy told me not to eat from strangers,” Meg refused, but her eyes and nose couldn’t deny the delicious aroma of the pie in Albert’s lunch box.

Ummm, that tastes delicious. Sweet. Ummm,” Albert ate a spoonful in front of Meg. “If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it fully. I can finish the whole pie in two minutes. You sure you don’t want it?!”

Meg grabbed the lunchbox and started devouring the pie. Albert was pleased his trick worked and went on with his work while Meg waited for her mother.

Hours passed, and it was close to sundown, but her mom never came. Meg burst into tears, and Albert’s heart wouldn’t allow him to leave her alone again.

“Do you want to go home with me? We will come back tomorrow and wait for your mother, alright?” he asked Meg.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

Meg agreed and went home with Albert. “Yeah, I only know her name is Margaret. But I don’t have a clue about her mother. Could you please let me know? She said her mom has blonde hair, is tall, age must be around 24 or 25, I guess,” Albert informed his former colleagues in the department.

Meg could not spell her mother’s name accurately and gave vague descriptions of her appearance. But Albert could not say anything for sure. He made out a name and a surname using Meg’s broken spellings but was unsure if it was correct.

“When will mommy come?” Meg asked Albert.

“She will come soon, sweetie. Now go to that room and change your dress. You’ll find a lot of clothes in the little cupboard. I’ll make dinner meanwhile.”

Meg returned minutes later wearing Emily’s pajamas. She ran around Albert as he whisked the eggs and giggled to an old song playing on the gramophone. For the first time in five years, Albert never felt lonely.

Albert was on the phone the whole night as Meg slept in Emily’s room. He wanted to find her mother at any cost and was busy working at it with his friends.

“No, pal,” an officer called him late at night. “We even checked reports of murders of young women with similar descriptions and surnames, but no lead. There were no instances reported recently.”

Albert sighed, assured Meg’s mother was alive somewhere. While putting out the lights in Emily’s room, he saw Meg curled up and fast asleep on her bed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

Albert was up until the wee hours, gathering contact details of hospitals in the city. He suddenly woke up when the morning rays irritated his sleepy eyes. He was exhausted and had slept off in his armchair.

“Oh my God, Meg??” he ran to check on her, thinking she would’ve gone to the park alone while he was dozing. “Jesus, thank goodness!” he sighed when he saw she was still fast asleep.

Albert then contacted every hospital in the city to find out about Meg’s mother. He even reached out to a friend in the morgue, but nothing helped. Nobody had heard about the woman with his description and surname.

Albert was puzzled about what to do next. “Cops will hardly try and carefully look for a homeless woman. And if I have to send her to a foster home, she’ll likely never see her mother again,” he thought. Then, Albert realized that the only reliable way to help Meg was to search for her mother on his own. It was not for nothing he was a cop for 30 years.

Albert brought Meg to the park every day and sat her in the exact spot her mother last left her. He asked his friends to watch over her while he searched for the missing woman. Albert knew he could not do all this while working, so he took a few days off.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

He first started visiting all the homeless shelters in the city and neighboring towns. “Her name is Candy D’Cruz… Do you know someone with that name?” he asked almost everyone he encountered.

He checked with all the offices that had a “We’re Hiring” sign to find out if Meg’s mother had, by chance, attended any interviews. He even checked in several refuges he knew of, but nothing turned up. Nobody had seen a woman with the name Candy D’Cruz.

Albert even searched on social media and showed Meg the photos of several women with similar names, but none of them was her mother. He checked every street and traffic camera near the park but could not find a clue.

A month passed, and Albert almost lost hope of finding Meg’s mother. All his attempts were fruitless. But Meg never gave up and refused to do anything other than visit the park daily, waiting for her mother from dawn to dusk.

“How will mommy find me if I’m not there,” she often argued with Albert. One morning, as they left for the park, it started raining.

“Sweetie, I’ll take you to the park tomorrow. You’ll catch a cold,” Albert told Meg, but she was stubborn.

“No, we’ll go and wait there. Mommy will come,” she said.

Albert could not convince her. They took a bus to the park as they could not walk in the rain. The route was longer and passed several stations. And while crossing one such station, Meg started shouting.

“There she is! There is mommy!”

Albert was startled. “Where??” he rose from his seat. He thought she’d confused somebody else for her mother but still asked the driver to stop the bus.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

Albert quickly helped Meg out of the bus and hastily looked around at all the women he noticed. “Where is she??” he asked her.

Meg tugged his arm to a billboard on a sidewalk and pointed, shouting, “There…That’s my mommy!”

“Where? Which one??” Albert asked her.

“There…the second from the left…She’s my mommy…She’s my mommy!!”

The words on the billboard read: “Do You Know Me? Please Call On This Number” next to the name “Cadence Delacruz.” He gasped in shock after learning Meg’s mother’s name was Cadence, not Candy.

“What is written there?” Meg interrupted.

“It’s an advertisement for lost people,” he told her.

“What is that? What does it mean??”

“It means we are going to find your mother!!” Albert carried Meg cheerfully as he called the number on the billboard.

“City hospital,” the attendant answered. “Yes, she was admitted here.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

When they got to the hospital, they were told Meg’s mother had already left. “Mommy has gone? Where did she go?” Meg started to cry.

“Sweetie, hold on…One second,” Albert comforted her.

“How did she come here? What happened to her?” he asked the nurse.

“She was brought here with a severe head injury over a month ago. She’d suffered from a traumatic brain injury that caused amnesia,” the nurse said.

“Where is she? We want to see her,” Albert asked her.

“She needed expensive treatment. She was in a coma for a few weeks and could not recall anybody when she woke up. Nobody came to take her. We even advertised her name and picture, but nobody turned up. She was discharged last week and sent to a shelter for the homeless.”

Albert was afraid Meg would lose her mother again. He then rushed to the shelter with the girl.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

Meg clutched Albert’s little finger as she looked around for her mother. Then she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her toward a bed in a corner.

“MOMMY!!” she cried and ran to her mother. “Mommy, where did you leave me and go?”

Cadence had a photo of them together and remembered Meg was her daughter as soon as she saw her and heard her call her mommy.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” she burst into tears.

Albert was speechless and moved at seeing Meg laughing and crying with her mother. “You need to come with me,” he interrupted.

“Where? And who are you?” Cadence asked.

“I’m Albert. I’m a janitor in the park. I found your daughter…” he paused. “I’ll explain everything later. You and Meg need to come home with me now.”

Albert took Cadence home and offered to stay in his house as long as she wanted. He spent all his savings on her treatment. It took several months before Cadence could recall some crucial moments of her life. Being around her daughter helped her to a great extent. Gradually, Cadence remembered everything, and Albert was curious to know how she had hurt herself.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“My husband had mortgaged our house,” she recalled. “I was not able to pay the loan after he died in an accident. Our house was taken, and then I rented a small room with my daughter. I lost my job, and my landlord kicked us out for not paying rent.”

After she was stranded on the street, Cadence could not find a job almost immediately. She did not want her daughter to live in the shelter for the homeless, so they temporarily camped in the tarp tent under the bridge.

Albert felt sorry for Cadence and sighed with relief things ended well for her and Meg. “But how did you get hurt?” he asked her.

Cadence recalled that fateful day and broke down.

“I was going for a job interview. I left my daughter in the park because I thought leaving her alone in the tent would be unsafe. I told her to wait there until I came,” Cadence revealed.

“I remember I slipped and fell in the underpass. My head hit the edge of the staircase, and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I could not remember anything.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay

“I’m glad you are safe, my dear. And I’m really happy Meg found you. She missed you so much,” Albert teared up.

Cadence and her daughter lived with Albert until she found a job. A few months later, she dated Frank, a widower with two children, and married him.

Cadence and Meg moved into their new house and were always thankful to Albert for his help. He was happy for them, although he knew he would miss Meg terribly.

Time passed, but Meg and her mother never forgot Albert. They became a part of his family and constantly visited him on the weekends, and every summer, they even vacationed together by the sea.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

What can we learn from this story?

  • Nothing is impossible, so keep going until you accomplish what you want. Despite having little to no leads in tracking down Meg’s mother, Albert never gave up. Ultimately, he reunited the lost little girl with her mother.
  • Only light can drive out darkness; Only love can drive out sorrow. Albert was distraught after losing his family in an accident. His life was a dark hollow until he met little Meg in the park.

Tell us what you think, and share this story with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

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