đ I fed an old woman for four years: her last letter broke my heart.
In our neighborhood, there lived an old lady whose house was in poor condition. Every day, she would sit outside in the sun, silently watching passersby, lost in her thoughts.
She wasnât very talkative, but it was clear that she felt lonely.
One day, I decided to keep her company, to talk to her, and little by little, I realized she was completely alone. She had neither family nor friends.
So, I started bringing her food. At first, she seemed a little embarrassed, but she quickly accepted my help. Every day, I brought her a meal, and gradually, it became a routine.
The neighbors soon noticed my gesture, and some of them felt guilty for having ignored this woman all this time.
Four years later, she passed away. One day, the county office contacted me because she had named me as her emergency contact. They asked me to come and pick up a box she had left for me.
When I opened it, I found a letter that broke my heart.
The rest of my story is in the article in the first comment đđđ.
“To the only person who saw me,
You gave me much more than food, you gave me back my dignity. Thank you for being my family when the world left me behind.”
Her words deeply moved me.
Margaret, whom I barely knew, had given me a far more precious gift than anything I could have offered her: a reminder of the importance of kindness.
Her simple yet poignant story resonated in the neighborhood, and little by little, compassion spread.
Sometimes, I stand in front of her empty house, reflecting on the lesson she left me: humanity is measured in small acts of kindness.
