At twenty-two, I was so broke that I took the weirdest job one could ever think of. During the day, I attended classes at college, and right after that, I’d take a shift at the local supermarket while also helping my mother around my brother, Noah.
You see, Noah was fourteen and sick most of his life, so we were in an out of the hospital more times than you can imagine. My mom also had two jobs because medical bills were piling up faster than we cover them. Despite all that, she was always smiling in front of Noah, but I knew all too well how hard it was for her to make ends meet.
Often, I’d find past-due notices and would hear her cry in her room late into the night.
One day, a bill so massive came, that I knew there was no way we cover it, so I got on my laptop and started looking for yet another job. Anything from dog walking, to babysitting and cleaning was a yes for me. And that’s when I stumbled upon this crazy Craigslist ad.
It said they were looking for a girl in her twenties to spend Sundays with an elderly, blind veteran. The pay was crazy good and all I had to do was pretend to be his granddaughter. It turned out that he lost contact with the real granddaughter many years ago because she had a huge conflict with the family and stopped communicating, but the father was still looking for her. His daughter simply wanted the old man to feel loved during the last years of his life.
From the first moment, I got the feeling that this could only be either a fraud or something really bizarre. On one hand, it seemed immoral to trick such a vulnerable elderly person. But I decided to leave this site anyway; however, the amount on the hospital invoice lying next to me on the table prompted me to apply.
In a week, we finally met in person. The woman introduced herself as Linda and told me her father was Walter Harrison. He had been blind for six years and was very proud and stubborn, but lonely. She assured me that all I had to do was come every Sunday, spend lunchtime and talk with him and let him believe his granddaughter didn’t abandon him.
The first Sunday, my palms were drenched with sweat. I approached his tiny little white home, knocked on the door, and he quickly answered it. Though he couldn’t see me, he still wore the most beautiful smile.
“Here you are,” he said.
I had to force myself to speak. “Hello, Grandpa,” I finally said.
It felt as if I were a complete criminal, but instead he just grabbed my hand and dragged me into his house, and to be frank, those next four hours went by fast. Walter only needed someone to listen to his stories and he told me everything from truck repairs in the army, to his fishing adventures and his late wife, Margaret, who obviously meant a lot to him. One could hear love in his voice when talking about her.
After a couple of months, it didn’t even feel like job any more and I genuinely started caring about him. I got so involved in the conversations with him that I completely forgot I was paid to play his granddaughter and told him everything about my mom and my brother. And he didn’t get mad, because I assume he already knew I wasn’t his granddaughter anyways.
It wasn’t until he asked me how my brother was doing that I realized I made the mistake of revealing the truth to him.
Eventually, I started visiting more often, baked cookies for him, and even made lunch every now and then. The truth was that we weren’t related, but he felt like a family to me.
Then one Sunday, things went south when Walter started feeling weak and out of breath. When I asked how he was feeling, he’d joke and tell me he was just an old man, and old people have issues like that. However, over the next few months, his health deteriorated and he ended up in a hospital. One afternoon, he took my hand and told me how I made his last months memorable. Truth was he made mine too.
Three weeks later, Walter passed away, and I knew he did the moment I saw Linda’s name on my screen. I started crying. Not because I lost the job, but because I was really sad he was gone.
The funeral took place a week later. Of course I attended it. There were military people, neighbors, and family. When Linda saw me, she hugged me and said her father adored me.
I believed that with Walter’s passing, I’d cut ties with Linda forever as well, but that’snot what happened. In fact, I met her a week following the funeral when I attended a family meeting at their lawyers office. Everyone was looking at me as though I did something wrong, and they were probably right, because I didn’t belong there and had no idea what the lawyer called me.
That’s when the lawyer said Walter left something for me before he passed away.
The lawyer began to read aloud from Walter’s letter, saying:
“To my family. You may be surprised to see Emily. Many of you are aware she is not my biological granddaughter. But there’s something else you should know. I’ve known all along.”
The letter continued, “From the moment Emily stepped foot inside my home, I knew that she was not my granddaughter. Being blind does not make one stupid. I could tell from the minute I heard her voice, listened to her steps and saw her move. Right from the beginning. Of course, I played along, simply because I needed so much companionship in my life. After some weeks, Emily no longer felt the need to pretend, and she became who she truly was. And what this girl introduced into my life was nothing short of miraculous. It seems that blood doesn’t always mean everything, but hearts can. Emily didn’t come back for the money, but because she genuinely cared for me.”
I was a wreck, crying my heart out, and Linda was crying with me. His entire family seemed mortified, looking down at their feet.
Then the lawyer continued reading: “Thus, my last request is that a huge portion of my money goes towards Noah Carter’s health care and education. Every child deserves to live without having to worry about hospital bills. It will be known as The Second Chance Trust.”
The lawyer looked right at me and said, “Emily, The Second Chance Trust holds two hundred thousand dollars.”
I lost it there, right on the spot. Two hundred thousand dollars. We no longer needed to worry about any future costs of his treatment, and my mom wouldn’t have to work herself to death anymore. My life could finally start feeling like normal.
Then the lawyer approached me and handed me a small handwritten letter from Walter. When I opened it, it said: “Emily, if you’re reading this, I’m probably up there arguing with angels. Thank you for every Sunday. Thank you for talking to me, and thank you for making an old blind guy feel like he actually mattered. Family isn’t always the people you’re born with. Sometimes it’s the people who choose to stay. You chose to stay, and that made you my granddaughter in every way that counts. Love, Grandpa Walter.”
That happened three years ago. Noah has done great and is totally fine. I’ve graduated, and my mother now has a regular nine-to-five job. However, every Sunday, I still drive to Walter’s old house. Linda lives there now, but she always opens the door for me. I sit down in his rocking chair and simply chat with him as if he were sitting right next to me. Every once in a while, I think I can even hear him asking about my brother.
I then just smile, look up at the sky, and tell my grandfather what he wanted to hear from me all those times we spent together.
“He’s doing well, Grandpa,” and believe me, he probably already knows that.
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