A Once Given Life

Caroline was exhausted, as usual, her small shoes hurting her toes within every step when she was walking to the shelter. Every day had the same routine; wake up early, go to the old café, and work like a madman. Couldn't blame anyone, though – it was a life of an orphan. She had to work to eat and survive every day. She was thankful at least she could stay in the shelter. Yet knowing that this is the only way she was going live like this for the rest of her life killed Caroline. She wanted to be useful, to be remembered, to leave an impact or a mark showing that she lived.

Caroline was waiting for the traffic light to the crosswalk when she saw a child and his mother were crossing the road. The woman was talking on her phone, too distracted to see her child had tripped and fallen behind on the road. A car was approaching at a rapidly high speed. People around were screaming to get the woman's attention. It would take less than 15 seconds for the car to hit the toddler. Caroline realized that the woman will not realize in time to save her child. She knew that she had nothing to lose, so Caroline made the decision of her life – she ran and pushed the toddler away just in time...

Breaking News:

A 15-year-old girl, Caroline Richards heroically sacrifices her life in a car crash to save a 3-year-old toddler. The police arrived to see Caroline dead. Investigators say poor Caroline's death was highly unusual.

"The body didn't have a single scratch or injury, for getting hit at that kind of speed it is impossible to be dead without damage," says Doctor Daniel Hudson.

According to the law the driver, Carter Thomson is going to jail for a couple of years for the act, yet he admits it's his fault and wants to pay Caroline's family for causing trauma. But Caroline never had family or friends.

"It was one of the saddest and bravest things I've ever seen" witnessed 67-year-old Barbara Howards. "I was a couple of meters away with groceries when I heard people screaming, I saw the girl running and she jumped pushing the kid away. May her kind soul rest in peace."

Destruction and death have a way of draining hope, but acts of heroism and selflessness under duress offer a sliver of light when people most need it.

Indeed, may Caroline Richards rest in peace.

30 years later

I didn't want to admit to myself that I was coming to his grave every day for 4,5 months. My life had turned upside down when Sammy had been diagnosed with cancer. My wife and I spent almost a year looking for the best doctors around the world willing to pay as much as they desired. But even my money couldn't buy my dear son's health. Jessica tried to convince me to stop visiting Sam's grave. But my grief was strong, too strong that I didn't notice anything around me. I became a careless man, who stopped working and visited the graveyard every day earning myself a nickname – "Psychopath".

Jessica left a month ago to live with her parents and said she'd come if I was back to reality again.

I didn't care. I didn't care about anything – my company was going downwards, my friends made fun of me, the media would talk non-stop about me. I was so lost in my grief that forgot about the real world.

So I sat there, talking with Sam's grave. The place was sunny, but I was chilled to my brain. The moss underneath was unpleasant and squishy. The field was empty, only a few yards away there were people gathered up for a funeral. I heard a shuffling footsteps and someone sat beside me. Thinking it was the gravedigger trying to shoo me away, I didn't look.

"You're wrong, you know?" a girl's interrupted my thoughts .

I turned to see her dressed in a white shirt and black costume. Assuming she was with the people who came to a funeral, I replied: "It's none of your business."

She glared at me and kept sitting.

"You're wrong!" she repeated, stubbornly.

I sighed in annoyance and tried to avoid her, thinking she was going to leave after a while.

No. – she was one of those donkey types, who stood on their ground until they received a satisfying answer.

"Sitting here and grieving for his soul, won't bring him back," She went on.

"It's hard to accept but Sammy isn't happy that you're giving up on him."

"I never gave up on him!", I grew angry.

"Imagine you were in his place," the girl argued. "You're dead, and everyone you loved quit their lives just so sit here wasting their time for 4,5 months."

"Okay, so?"

"Would you be happy? Would want everyone to stop everything just to come to your grave and grieve your death, making you feel worse? Or would it be better if they came once in two months to smile and put fresh flowers on your stone and tell how everything is good and not to worry about them?

"Look, everyone dies. But it's never a lie that they are always with us in our hearts. What is the point of coming to grieve when they already know what's going on?"

I tried to ignore everything she said, but she sounded worried and convincing, which made me rethink.

"What should I do, if I miss him?" I asked, a lump rising in my throat. I sounded weak and helpless. "It's impossible to forget."

She gave a sympathetic look, and for a blink of a second, she reminded me of someone, but I quickly brushed the thought away.

"You know how everyone says 'Forget about everything and start entirely from a blank page'?" she said. "Well, don't do that. Look back at your mistakes, what you missed, and start fixing them. Do what you would do when Sammy was alive, or try even harder to make him proud. Your life is given only once – then live it to the fullest."

"You're wise for your age." I finally say after a silent moment. "But thanks, no one was able to convince me as you did."

She nods.

"Bye, I've got to go" she pats my shoulder and waves goodbye, before leaving.

I smile and turn my head to a pond to see my reflection – I still look terrible. Yet something had changed; my eyes look alive.

When I start walking home, something feels off. I didn't ask the girl's name. How does she know Sammy's name? Oh yeah, she must've read his stone. But what about her knowing I used to come there every day for 4,5 months. What about knowing that Sammy wasn't happy with what I was doing? What about such wisdom and knowledge about death at such an young age?

Then it suddenly hit me, her pat on my shoulder never touched.

I ran back to the cemetery, cold sweat rolling down my face. I stopped near her grave:

Caroline Richards

1973 - 1988

Our beloved young savior

'Goodnight brave hero

May angels sing you to your rest'

I shake as I realize what happened. Caroline had saved my life twice. The first time she gave me a chance to live, this time she opened my eyes to the world once again. I don't hold my tears this time, I won't make my saviors' sacrifice useless.