What Comes From Kindness

“Is grandpa gonna be alright?"

Dalia Lewis stared down into the bright blue eyes of her four-year-old grandson. For the first time in her life, she didn't have an answer.

Her husband of forty years had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He was facing large surgery bills to have it removed, and little time before the cancer became incurable.

"I'm sure he will be." Dalia said, biting back tears. Unfortunately, she knew he wouldn't be. They were barely scraping enough money to live by, especially with their grandson living with them now, and there was no way they could raise twenty thousand dollars in time to have the surgery done. She smiled at the sweet little boy and ran her fingers through his curly, red hair.

"Are you sure, Grandma?"

She considered telling him the truth, but she couldn't. The young boy had already been through so much in the past week. With his parents going missing just a month before, she didn't want to crush his hope. That little boy had the most undying hope she'd ever seen. He was still holding out for his parents to come back and Dalia didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Before she could answer, the nurse poked her head out the door of the small hospital room. She smiled tiredly. "You can come in now. Just talk quietly. He's having a hard day today."

It seemed for the past week it'd been all hard days. They tried. Every single day without fail, Dalia and Timothy showed up at the hospital. Every day without fail, Dalia and Timmy sat there, outside of the hospital room, waiting and waiting for the nurse to come and open the door. And every day without fail the nurse would limit their time together, and say Dalia's husband, John, was having a hard time.

Dalia pushed Timmy gently off of her lap. "Okay."

It was all that she could muster. She held tightly onto her grandson's hand as they walked through the doorway and into the place that she so regularly visited her in her nightmares. She'd have liked to say that holding Timmy's hand gave her hope, but it actually took away the hope she’d had. She now had a child depending on her. There was no way they could manage to pay for the surgery.

"Hi honey." Dalia said dryly, as she maneuvered Timmy over to John's bedside.

"Hey guys." John said. His breathing was labored and heavy, and he looked as white as a bone. Tubes stuck out of his nostrils, and ran down his previously muscular arms. He took a deep breath, and Dalia had to blink back tears at how weak he sounded.

"Grandpa are you gonna come home soon?" Timmy asked, reaching for the old man's hand.

John smiled gently. It curved up his cheeks just slightly enough, that he would almost look better if it wasn't for the tiredness in his faded green eyes. He shared a glance with Dalia. "Of course." he paused to suck in another breath. "You just keep on praying and I'll keep getting better."

This seemed to satisfy Timmy because he smiled widely. His smile was the brightest thing in the shadowy, grey room.

John’s eyes were fluttering closed, when the nurse called for them to leave.

"Love you guys." John said, turning his head so that he could see them. It seemed to take all of his strength to reach for Dalia's hand and give it a weak squeeze.

"We love you too Gramps." Said Timmy, kissing his grandfather's forehead.

Dalia smiled softly down at her husband, trying to give him a ray of hope, and squeezed his hand back. The nurse, Dana, led them out of the room.

"We'll see you back here tomorrow, okay?" She handed Timmy an orange lollipop from the jar on the counter.

"Will we be back tomorrow grandma?"

"After I get off work, we'll come straight here." Dalia said, rubbing Timmy's shoulder.

Dalia worked at a daycare to take up extra time. With her husband at the hospital, she needed a way to get income, and the daycare supplied just enough. She was trying to start a savings account for the surgery because, as much as she hated to admit it, she was still holding onto hope. That hope was slowly dwindling out, as she only had one hundred dollars in the account, and John was likely in his last days, if not hours before the cancer spread.

Dana smiled, and squeezed her hand, offering her support. The nurse had acted quite fond of them, especially Timmy. If nothing else, her sympathy went out.

Dalia maneuvered Timmy through the long, winding halls of the hospital. It was hard to tell one hall from another when they were all the same bland beige color. It made Dalia wish that they would brighten it up a bit. The hospital could at least try to give people hope, but instead the colors merged with the sadness, and feeling of emptiness that many people walking these halls felt.

Timmy sucked nonchalantly on his bright orange lollipop, causing his lips to purse and get wrinkly. “Grams?” He asked, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. Dalia could hear hushed voices through the doors on the walls, but the hall itself was entirely empty.

“Hmm?” Dalia said, half listening to the sweet little boy. It wasn’t Timmy’s fault, but she was fully distracted. Visits to her husband always caused her to be this way. It was painstaking to realize you were watching someone die, and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Well, I was thinking how these walls look kind of boring.”

“Yes?”

They reached the door, and Dalia pushed the cold, glass open, before stepping out onto the sidewalk. Timmy, however decided to walk through the grass alongside the sidewalk. It was pristinely green, and neatened, perhaps in hopes that people would walk along the sidewalk. Timmy didn’t pay the grass much attention though, as he wound around a big oak tree and proceeded to stamp his floppy sandals through the grass. Well, Dalia preferred that to him walking in the busy parking lot beside her.

“So maybe I could bring a drawing and hang it up? That way when Gramps gets out, he can see my drawing and be happy, instead of sad cause of the boring walls.”

If it was possible for a heart to melt, Dalia’s did just that. She pulled Timmy in for a hug, and squeezed his shoulders. “You know, I think we could do just that.”

…...............................................................

Dalia stumbled haphazardly into the kitchen, her blue pajamas twisting around her bare feet. She blinked twice, since the world was still blurred from having just woken up. It was exactly 8:02 in the morning and Dalia had been awoken to a steady knocking at the front door. Then the familiar ding of the doorbell filled her ear repetitively.

She let her red hair down from atop her head, and smoothed out the shirt of her pajamas. She was unsure why in the world she was trying to look nice. Anyone coming this early in the morning likely didn’t care for her appearance.

She left the chained lock attached at the top, and twisted the gold knob open. It was hard to see out in the shadowed morning light, but she was pretty sure there was no one on the porch.

“Hello?” She whispered, trying not to wake the neighbors.

When no one responded, she let out a sigh. Must have been some neighborhood kids just acting foolish.

The neighborhood was a tight knit community. Children were over to Dalia’s house all the time, free to roam through the rooms with Timmy as they pleased. Adults even came to sit in Dalia’s winding garden with freshly bud roses when they needed a quiet place. Dalia supplied all of her guests with cookies and freshly squeezed lemonade. John usually brought out his football collection for the wide eyes boys and they oohed and awed at the autographed memorabilia as if they were the greatest things in the world.

Dalia felt a pang of pain in her chest. She’d stopped allowing people over at the house when John got sick, but that hadn’t stopped them from caring. People still came to bring gift baskets, and casseroles to Dalia, showing as much love to her as she had to them. She knew, that if, or more accurately, when John died, she’d have all the support she needed. That didn’t make it feel any better though.

She sighed, and with fresh tears budding in her eyes she pushed the wood door to close it. Just as the door was almost latched to the wall, she noticed a small box on her scruffy welcome mat. Puzzled, she unlatched the door and lifted the box off of the ground. None of the shipping companies would deliver so early.

She yawned and brought the box over to the soft couch. It was tied neatly in a bow with a ribbon of her favorite color, light lavender. She pulled the ribbon off and slowly opened the box, entirely confused as of to what it might be. She hadn’t ordered anything, and it wasn’t near a holiday enough for her to be receiving any gifts, let alone at eight in the morning.

Inside there was soft lavender tulle wisped around the inside, holding a small black notebook. The cover was soft and leathery when Dalia ran her hand along it. She inhaled the smell of fresh pages, and flipped it open.

To her astonishment, on the first page was the most beautiful calligraphy Dalia had ever seen. Smooth lettering lined the white notebook pages. It read:

“For you, Dalia. Thank you for welcoming us into your home. Those of us that didn’t have a home, had a home with you and John. John has been on our minds for longer than you know. Since his diagnosis we’ve been working on this. Turn the page.”

Names littered the bottom of the page in different colors and handwriting. Signatures varied and caused Dalia to let out a small sob and grasp her palm over her mouth. Page by page she twisted through the little black notebook. Inside were letters from different people. With each signature at the bottom of each set of heartfelt words, Dalia pictured a face. Some were the faces of worn adults, and some were the sweet, rounded faces of young children.

Nonetheless, each person had a story and each person wrote that story down into the little black notebook.

Dalia sniffed, her eyes burning with tears. Any minute now her little grandson would rumble out of bed and come pleading for a pancake to start his day, but Dalia couldn’t do anything but run her fingers along the smooth words that people wrote for her. People saw what she was going through and did something for her to try and make it easier.

She sighed, finishing the last page, and as she flipped it, she found an even greater gift. Taped into the back cover was a small pouch and inside of the small pouch was a check. Dalia’s breath caught in her chest, and she sent out a silent plea to God that somehow, someway, this was what she thought it was. And it was. It was a check for twenty thousand dollars, the exact price of the surgery her husband would need to save his life.

Tears fell down Dalia’s flushed cheeks as she held the check up to the light with shaky hands to make sure she hadn’t misread it. She hadn’t. She didn’t know how these people had managed to get so much money, but all she knew was that she was grateful for such a gift. She was beyond grateful. Because of the kindness she had given her neighbors, the life of her husband would be saved.