For Nancy her son Henry was everything, she never imagined her life without him. It had been 23 years since the horrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she took his favorite pie to his grave to honor his memory. But this year, everything was about to change.
For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, never missed a single day on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave every year since.
The pie, a simple yet delicious apple and cinnamon creation, had been Henry’s favorite since childhood.
The scent of apples and cinnamon brought back memories of when Henry was little, running into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the pie.
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It was his favorite dessert, and baking it had become a tradition they both cherished.
Since Henry’s tragic accident at 17, this ritual had been Nancy’s way of keeping his memory alive.
It gave her a sense of connection to him, like she was still doing something special for her boy. Losing him had been the hardest thing she had ever gone through. The pain of that day never left her.
Even though the years had passed, her grief remained, only softened by time and the small comfort this tradition brought her.
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On this particular day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.
The weight of the dish felt heavier, as it always did when she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, a sign of how much he was still loved.
The stone had become smoother over the years, as she had often run her fingers over it, lost in her memories.
Nancy knelt, placing the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as though Henry might somehow hear her.
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“Henry, I hope you’re at peace, my love. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Remember how we used to bake it together? You’d always sneak a taste before it was done.”
She smiled, but her eyes were misty with tears. “I wish we could do that one more time.”
The familiar sorrow welled up inside her, but Nancy had learned over the years to push through the tears.
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She wiped her eyes quickly and managed a small smile. After a few more moments of silence, she kissed her fingers and touched the top of the gravestone as she said her quiet goodbye.
Then, with a heavy but comforted heart, she turned and walked away, knowing she’d be back next year, just like always.
The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy made her way back to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.
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Usually, by the time she returned, the pie was either untouched or spoiled by the weather, a quiet reminder of her son’s absence.
She had always found it a bittersweet comfort, knowing the pie stayed where she left it as if waiting for him.
But today, as she approached the grave, something felt different. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that the plate was clean—completely empty. For a moment, she stood frozen in disbelief.
Then, she noticed something else. Resting on the plate was a small piece of paper, folded in half.
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Nancy’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her breath caught in her throat as she unfolded it.
The handwriting was shaky, as though whoever had written it had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.
“Who would take Henry’s pie?” she muttered under her breath, clutching the note tightly. “This was for my son. No one had the right to touch it!”
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Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been invaded by a stranger.
She felt violated, as if someone had stolen a piece of her grief.
With her emotions swirling—part outrage, part confusion—Nancy left the cemetery, her mind set on finding the person who had taken her son’s pie. She had to know who had done this, and why.
Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided she would take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t let someone continue to disturb the way she honored Henry. So, she devised a plan.
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That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over two decades.
The next morning, with renewed resolve, she placed the freshly baked pie on Henry’s grave, just like before, but this time she wasn’t leaving.
She found a large oak tree nearby and hid behind it, close enough to see the grave but far enough to not be noticed.
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The warm aroma of the pie drifted through the air, filling the quiet cemetery.
Time passed slowly as Nancy watched and waited, her heart racing in anticipation.
An hour later, she spotted movement. A small figure cautiously approached the grave. Nancy squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.
It wasn’t the greedy thief she had imagined. No, this was something entirely different.
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A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with hesitant steps.
Nancy’s heart tightened as she watched him. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie.
Instead, he knelt by the grave and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of paper and a dull pencil. His hand trembled as he carefully scribbled something on the paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.
It was clear the boy struggled with writing, but he took his time, making sure each word was legible.
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Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t someone disrespecting Henry’s memory. He was just a hungry child, grateful for the kindness of a pie left behind.
The anger that had once consumed Nancy melted away in an instant. She realized this boy wasn’t stealing; he was surviving. He was in need, and her son’s favorite pie had somehow brought him comfort.
As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.
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The rustle of leaves under her feet made him freeze, wide-eyed. Startled, he dropped the pie, and it tumbled onto the grass. His face paled, and he backed away, looking terrified.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”
Nancy’s heart softened instantly. The sight of him—thin, dirty, and scared—erased any trace of anger she had felt before.
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She knelt beside him, speaking gently, her voice as comforting as she could make it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you, Where are your parents?” she said, her tone soothing. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked another question understanding that the boy had nowhere to go.
“Jimmy,” he muttered, still avoiding her eyes, ashamed of what he had done.
“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to steal pies. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”
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Jimmy looked up at her, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I just… I don’t get to eat much, and that pie was the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Nancy’s heart ached for him, her mind flooded with thoughts of how different this boy’s life must be.
The hunger in his eyes reminded her of her own son, Henry, when he would eagerly wait for that first bite of her freshly baked pie.
But Henry never had to worry about where his next meal would come from. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for a long time.
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“Come with me,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She stood up and reached out her hand to him. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt.
Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.
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She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.
Baking had always been her way of expressing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.
When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding the perfect amount of cinnamon—just as she had done so many times before.
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Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.
The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.
Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.
“This one’s all for you.”
Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as he chewed.
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“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.
She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.
As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.
She had always dreamed of seeing her son eat his favorite pie again, of watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.
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But now, in some strange and unexpected way, she was sharing it with another boy who needed it just as much.
Watching Jimmy eat, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be.
Maybe fate had brought Jimmy into her life for a reason. By feeding him, by offering him kindness when he needed it most, she was honoring Henry’s memory in a way she had never imagined.
For the first time in years, Nancy felt that her grief had led her to something beautiful—a connection, a purpose that gave new meaning to her life.
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Maybe, just maybe, this was Henry’s way of sending her a message—that love and kindness should always find their way back to those in need.
Nancy smiled as she watched Jimmy finish the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth and gratitude.
She had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely place, and it filled her soul in a way that nothing else had in years.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Martha was always quiet and smiling. No matter how hard or small the task, she was always ready to help. One of her colleagues, Chelsea, often took advantage of Martha’s kind nature by asking her to do her work for her. But this time, Chelsea unintentionally did Martha a favor.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Man Waits for Son He Has Not Seen in Years at the Airport, Does Not Find Boy among Passengers – Story of the Day
Arlene sent her seven-year-old, Justin, to visit his father, Pierce, in Orlando. Pierce waited for his son in anticipation of all the fun they would have, but his flight had allegedly arrived, and his son was nowhere to be found. That’s when both parents started worrying and realized their shocking mistake.
Arlene and her son, Justin, were at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Virginia. The seven-year-old was about to board a flight to Orland, Florida, where his father, Pierce, awaited him. It was the first time he had traveled as an unaccompanied minor, but luckily, the airline attendant made her feel safe.
“It’s going to be alright. Many minors travel alone around the country, and we should reach your husband in time,” she stated. “He’ll have an escort, and this flight is best because there are no connections. Everything will be perfect.”
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Arlene nodded, her face filled with emotion. Justin might be growing, but he was still a child. It was hard to let him go, mainly because he hadn’t seen his father in years. After their bitter divorce, Pierce moved from Virginia to Orlando, Florida, and he was busy most of the time.
“How is that possible?” Arlene wailed, almost starting to cry from the worry and exasperation. But something occurred to her at that moment. “Give me a second.”
However, his company had just given him a two-week vacation, and he invited Justin to come to spend time with him. They were going to the theme parks, so that Arlene couldn’t say no. Her son was too excited because he loved everything relating to superheroes and dinosaurs. It was his dream.
But now, she was almost regretting it. “Ok, Justin. You’re going to with this lady and get on the plane. Listen to the adults around. Don’t run off from your escort, and you’ll reach your dad soon. When you land in Orlando, you call me immediately. And then, call me again when you meet your father. Understand?” she requested, kneeling in front of the kid and holding his arms tenderly.
“Yes, Mom!” he replied, smiling and doing a makeshift military salute. This kid had a great sense of humor. He was going to love that trip.
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“Ok. Love you. Go on!” she continued and watched as Justin grabbed the attendant’s hand and entered the gate.
She thought about leaving but sat down at an airport café. She was going to wait for the plane to take off. But once she saw that the flight had taken off, she decided to stay and wait for Justin’s call if anything happened. After all, the flight was less than two hours long. The time would pass quickly.
***
Meanwhile, Pierce was waiting for Justin at Orlando International Airport, and he couldn’t wait. He was just as excited as the kid to see all the attractions at the park. It was crazy that he had lived in the city for years but had yet to attend. His work kept him way too busy. This trip was going to be amazing.
He arrived an hour before Justin’s flight and went to the arrival area to wait for him. Finally, the flight landed, and Pierce got closer to the gate so his son could see him immediately. “I should have made a sign,” he muttered to himself as he saw other people waiting for their loved ones. It was too late now. He stayed in the front at all times.
However, many passengers came out, and there was no Justin. According to the unaccompanied minor service, Arlene said that he would have top priority. So, someone should have brought him out already. He didn’t want to call her yet to avoid worrying her. Maybe, Justin had to go to the bathroom, which could explain the delay. He would wait for a while.
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But at one point, no other passengers were coming out of the arrival area. It had been an hour since the plane landed. It shouldn’t take that long. He approached someone from the airline and started asking questions. An attendant came to assist him.
“I’m sorry, sir. There was no one by the name of Justin on that flight. We have no record of an unaccompanied minor serviced hired for it either,” the attendant, shocking Pierce.
“That’s impossible. Please, check again,” he demanded, trying to stay calm, but the sweat on his forehead gave away his fears.
The assistant typed away on her computer, and Pierce’s phone rang. It was Arlene. Hopefully, she knew what was going on. “Hello?”
“Hey, Pierce. Why didn’t you guys call me when Justin arrived? I told him to call me when the plane landed and when you met with him,” Arlene wondered, and he could tell that she was agitated for some reason.
“Arlene, listen. I’m sorry to say this, but Justin has not arrived. An attendant here said that he was not on the flight. I don’t understand what’s going on,” he was forced to reveal, and Arlene yelled in his ear.
“No! That’s crazy! NO! Tell the attendant to check again!” she started yelling. “I’m going to talk to someone on my end too. I’m still at the airport.”
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“Ok. Listen, calm down. Everything will be alright. There must be a mix-up or something,” he said, trying to calm his ex-wife because he knew she was prone to hysterics.
“I’m not calming down! This is our child, Pierce! Talk to you later!” she screamed and hung up.
“Sir, like I said. There was no Justin on the flight. There’s nothing I can do. Are you sure this is the airline?” the attendant asked.
“Yes! It’s the only flight that arrived at this time from Virginia! My son was on that flight. My ex-wife just confirmed. Please, help me, miss. He’s only seven. Can you call anyone? Should I call the police?” Pierce started asking questions rapidly. The attendant sighed and grabbed her phone.
***
“Justin, where are you? Why didn’t you call me sooner? What’s happening?” Arlene asked desperately on her phone.
“Mom, we have been trying to find Dad for hours, and he’s nowhere. Did you talk to him?” the little boy said through the phone.
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“Your father is right at the arrival area. He’s just as worried as I am. Please, give the phone to your escort,” Arlene requested and demanded an explanation from the woman, who only reiterated what Justin said earlier. There was no Pierce anywhere in the airport.
She told them to wait until she called again and dialed her ex’s number. “Pierce, Justin called me and said they’ve been looking for you for a long time. What’s going on?” she said, one hand running through her hair in frustration. She knew Justin was safe, but there was no reason why they couldn’t find each other.
“There’s no way, Arlene. That’s impossible. People here are saying he was not on the flight!” Pierce stated.
“How is that possible?” Arlene wailed, almost starting to cry from the worry and exasperation. But something occurred to her at that moment. “Give me a second.”
She went to her emails where she had sent Pierce the flight details. However, she had written them instead of sending a screenshot, and she suddenly realized her big mistake. “Pierce,” she started, again putting the phone in her ear. “Where are you?”
“What do you mean? I’m at Orlando International Airport. Why?” Pierce questioned, confused by her words. But something clicked in his brain at that moment.
“Justin arrived at Orlando Sanford International Airport!” Arlene yelled, and Pierce took off in a run.
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“Jesus! Arlene, why didn’t you say that in your email! Most flights got to MCO!” he scolded her breathlessly as he ran to his car. “I’ll be there in 30 minutes!”
While Pierce was on his way, Arlene called Justin and explained to his escort what had happened. She was relieved too, and they waited for Pierce to arrive.
Less than an hour later, Justin called her. “I’m with Dad, Mom! Thank you for helping me! I’ll send you pics of Disney soon!”
Arlene hung up the phone with her son and breathed deeply as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. Finally, she walked to her car.
What can we learn from this story?
- You must send all the details of a flight and check several times. These poor parents worried so much because they had not communicated well enough. Luckily, nothing happened, and they resolved the issue.
- It’s always best to fly with your kids. While an unaccompanied minor service is perfect for busy parents and other situations, Arlene should have traveled with her son if she was going to worry so much. She would have avoided worrying so much.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who adopted a boy she found on the side of the road, and his father showed up years later.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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