Legacy

It was an overcast day, an old man lay in his hospital bed, staring out at the clouds. The man thinking on days passed, his thoughts dwelling on his family.

A nurse walked in. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dean.” She picked up his chart and glanced at it. “how are you feeling today?” she asked.

The old man turned his gaze towards her and spoke. “As well as can be expected Mrs. Dawson.” He smiled at the nurse.

“Any pain or anything?” She asked.

“None whatsoever, all thanks to you and your team.” He replied.

The nurse placed his chart back and asked. “Do you have any relatives we can get a hold of so they can visit you?”

“I’m afraid not, my relatives as you put it have long forsaken me.” His smile faded. “They care more about themselves and objects than about others’ lives.” His gazed turned back towards the window. “The last time I spoke to any of them is when I happened upon a small sum of money.”

“That’s horrible,” She blurted out; she paused for a second. “Sorry, it’s not my place to speak ill of others.”

“It’s alright Mrs. Dawson, I have made my peace with it all.” The man turned towards her again. “I have learned over the years that blood isn’t always family and family isn’t always blood. A truth that has led me to people that actually care about those that mean the most to them.” The man began to smile again as he thought about his real family.

“Can we contact them for you?” She asked, moving to the side of his bed. “I mean they might want to see you after all.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have their numbers, it has been a while since I have contacted them myself anyway.” The man’s eyes brightened as he remembered all their faces. “Plus, I would hate to see them cry over me, I only wish to ever see them happy after all we went through back then.”

“What do you mean Mr. Dean?” She asked.

“Well, years ago I happened upon a small case.” The man’s eyes turned towards the ceiling and closed. “When I opened it up, I found twenty thousand dollars in there, I felt that someone would miss it, so I took it to the police station. When I explained the situation, they told me they would hold it for a few days and if no one claimed it then it would be mine.” The man opened his eyes and looked at the nurse. “So, I left and went back to where I stayed. Me and what I call my family were homeless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said setting her hands on the bed railing.

“Life happens and it’s never easy on you, something to remember.” He smirked. “There were about twenty of us living there, we would go to the food bank and attempt to do any odd jobs anyone would give us. But there was this one couple who was expecting a little girl, they had it rougher than most of the others since they were expecting. Their lives were turned upside down one day and evicted from their home, we found them wondering the streets and invited them to stay with us.”

The man moved his arm to grab the bed controls and raised his bed enough to set up a little. “I went back every day to check and see if the money was claimed. When the time was up surprisingly no one had claimed it.” The man rested his hands on his lap. “So, I decided right then that instead of being selfish I would help my family get the homes they deserved. The one thing I bought for myself was a little black journal to keep the names of every one of my family in, as well as a personal journal of my journey to better their lives.” The man raised his hand and pointed towards a small book at his side.

The nurse glanced over at the old black journal, the words moleskine almost worn away. “So, in a way, that little black book is your gift to the world, a reminder of all the people you have helped?” she asked.

“Yes, I don’t have anything else to leave behind.” The man placed his hand on the journal and smiled. “I just hope that it can make its way to someone else and inspired them to spread more good in this harsh world.”

“That’s a good memento to leave behind, an item to give to someone to show not only who you were in the world, but something for future generation to aspire to.” She replied. “I have heard stories from my parents, and they hoped I to, could help others, their stories made me want to become a nurse in the first place.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The man said with a labored breath. “The more good people we have in this world the less we see the evils in it. One person can make a difference in many lives and then it can spread from there.”

The old man’s breaths became more labored and he knew his time was short.

“Mrs. can I ask you for one favor?” He asked.

“Sure Mr. Dean, what is it?” She replied.

“I don’t have anyone I know that I would like to give this journal to more than you at this point in my life. I would like you to have it if that’s okay.” The man slowly reached for his journal and lifted it towards the nurse.

“We aren’t supposed to really take gifts from patients like this Mr. Dean.” She said as she raised her hands and placed them together at her waist.

“You mean you can’t grant this dying man this one last request?” He said still holding the journal towards her. “I don’t have anyone else to give it to and if my blood relatives get a hold of it then it will just be thrown away and forgotten just like they forgot about me.”

The nurse took a deep breath and sighed. “If this is what you really want Mr. Dean then I will.”

“It is Mrs. Dawson. These kinds of gifts, in my opinion, serve a stranger more good than if it were given to a family member.” The man stretched out his arm to hand her the journal. “Sometimes a good dead from a stranger goes even further than from someone we know.”

The nurse reached out her hand and took the journal. “Thank you, Mr. Dean.” She then held the journal close to her chest.

“This will be my last time I can bring some good into the world myself, but if my journal inspires others then I will die happy.” He said with a more shallow breath. “That is what I wanted out of life is to help others and bring happiness where I could even if I didn’t have the means.”

The beeps on the heart monitor began to slow, and the nurse walked over to check on the machine and his pulse. The last few moments she held his hand to let him know that he wasn’t alone in this world, that someone was there beside his as he passed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dawson.” He said as he slowly faded from this world.

A few other nurses walked in to check on them.

“Is he?” one asked.

“Yes.” Nurse Dawson replied.

A few days passed since the mans passing and Mrs. Dawson looked down at the journal on her desk. Hesitantly she opened to the first page and read the first line.

“To whomever reads this journal, I just hope that this can inspire you to bring a little good into the world in which we live.”

She began to read some of the names within the journal but suddenly stopped and a tear began to form as she read two of the names.

“Charles and Marie Dawson, +1”

She covered her mouth and a few tears rolled down her cheek and all she could think was, Mom… Dad…