Kindness is Priceless

Michael sat on a chair in his son Jonathan’s room at the children’s hospital. He felt like it had been a century since he, along with his son, had been airlifted here, though it somehow had only been a few days. Jonathan had suddenly collapsed at home the other day and after a terrifying drive to the Emergency Room where Michael had gotten no answers at all, the doctor had called for a helicopter.

Michael could not close his eyes no matter how tired he was. Every time that he did, he saw the limp body of his son, his skin ash grey, as he carried him in his arms through the doors of the ER where he begged for help. His neighbor had been kind enough to bring some of their things to the hospital for them.

On a table that was next to Jonathan’s bed was a pile of little black moleskin notebooks that his son had been filling with short stories. Jonathan loved to write and really had quite the imagination. He looked so weak right now and the sight of his son, hooked up to so many machines nearly made Michael break down.

There was a knock at the door and a group of doctors and nurses came in. This had been the routine a couple times a day. They went over what they knew, which was not anything new and then they left after asking if there was anything that they needed. Jonathan just kept sleeping and Michael just kept staring into space.

There was another knock at the door and Michael was momentarily confused. Hadn’t the doctors just come through? Checking the clock, he saw that was not the case and that it had been nearly half a day. Time moved strangely in this place. This time there was news, but it was not the kind that Michael wanted. Jonathan had a heart defect and that was why he had collapsed. Michael had been afraid of this. His late wife had died from a heart defect. Having found the cause of his son’s collapse should have been a relief but the anxiety of knowing had replaced the uncertainty.

It was far from unfixable, but it was going to require surgery. What parent wouldn’t be scarred? The doctors left and mentioned that someone would be by later to go over the details. As they left a man stood at the door and knocked, in his hand was a little black notebook. Michael stood up and exited the room. The man in front of him was wearing what he clearly thought were casual street clothes though they were clearly quite expensive.

“Here. I believe this belongs to you. My daughter is in the next room and I found it under her pillow. When I asked her about it, she said that she had found it on the floor outside your room a few days ago. It seems that she loved reading the stories in here, so she hid it since she did not want to return it. I apologize.”

Michael felt his face form a smile for the first time in days. The motion felt oddly stiff like he had forgotten how to do it. “There’s no need to apologize. If my son’s stories made another child in this place smile, then that makes me incredibly happy and proud. Actually, wait here one moment.”

Michael stepped back into the room and quickly placed the book he had just been given next to the stack of books that was on the table and grabbed one of the ones that was full and stepped back outside.

“My son loves to write and has so many notebooks that are full of stories he has written. I’m sure he would be fine with lending them to your daughter. Once she finishes one, she can exchange it for another.”

Tears welled up in the other man’s eyes as he accepted the book. He offered his hand saying “Thank you. I will take you up on that offer. My name is William Connelly. My daughter is Julia.” Michael shook hands with him, “I’m Michael Greene and my son is Jonathan.”

From there the two men had a conversation in the hall where they talked of their children and their respective illnesses. It turned out that Julia, who was only ten had late-stage brain cancer. Michaels heart almost stopped when he heard that. His own son’s situation was stressful enough but there was at least straight forward treatment that was likely to work. Even Michael, who was no medical expert, knew that this poor girl was likely nearing the end of her life.

They parted and went back to sit with their children. Later that evening Jonathan finally woke up and Michael explained everything that was going on, keeping some of the details to himself in order to protect his son. Over the following week one of the nurses would come by every day and exchange one of the little black notebooks for a new one.

Jonathan was embarrassed at first that someone was reading his stories but after a few days, that gave way to genuine happiness. He started asking Julia to make notes on which stories she liked best. After she had read her way through seven of his notebooks Jonathan picked up a fresh notebook and began to write furiously. His surgery was coming up soon and he wanted to have this new project done before he went in.

Finally, it was time for Jonathan to go in for surgery the nurse came to get him. “Just give me a minute. I’m almost done!” Jonathan scribbled furiously and after a few minutes. He put his pen down and closed the notebook and turned to Michael “Dad, could you make sure that Julia gets this?” Michael smiled at his son. He was about to go into surgery, but he was not concerned about himself. He was worried about this little girl that he barely knew.

. . .

Jonathan’s surgery went perfectly, and he was now in recovery. It had been several days since his surgery and he had received all clear to return home. Despite that Jonathan was a low spirits. They had been informed that Julia had succumbed to her illness yesterday. Jonathan had put his notebooks away; he could not look at them. He had known she was terribly ill, but still this was a shock, after all he was only twelve. Michael could only look sadly at his son, feeling slightly guilty that HE was allowed to leave with his child in good health.

A knock at the door brought both of them out of their heads. It was Julia’s father William. Michael waved him in. The man looked a total wreck, his eyes were clearly red and there were bags under them. Michael couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here. But before anything else… “I’m sorry to hear about Julia.”

William closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, “I appreciate that. I miss my little girl, but I am glad that she is no longer suffering. I am even happier to have seen how happy she was in her last days.” Here he looked at Jonathan. “Julia absolutely loved your stories and was SO moved that you wrote something just for her. She asked that I tell you that she was so happy to learn that your surgery went well and that you were going to be OK.”

At this point there wasn’t a dry eye in the room and William tearfully continued, “I believe that this belongs to you.” Here he held out the notebook that had the story Jonathan had written for Julia. Jonathan shook his head. “I wrote that for Julia. It’s hers. Could…could you bury it with her?”

William was momentarily taken aback but as even more tears poured down his face, he found himself embracing this boy who had been so kind to his little girl. “I’m so glad that Julia made a good friend like you.” William took a steadying breath and turned to Michael, “There’s something that I want to give to Jonathan.” William pulled a check out of his pocket and handed it to Michael. It was for twenty thousand dollars and it was made out to Jonathan.

William smiled sadly, “When Julia was born, I had started college tuition savings account for Julia. She asked that I give that money to Jonathan if, he promises to keep writing stories and to come read them at her sometimes. In addition, I ask that it be used for college tuition, like I had intended it for Julia.”

Despite both Michael and Jonathan protesting William would not relent stubbornly insisting that it was his daughters wish. Jonathan finally looked back at those books and despite the pain in his chest he felt a fire light in him. He looked back at William and said, “I promise I’ll keep writing and I will definitely come read to Julia sometimes.

A few days later was Julia’s funeral. Even though he had just been discharged Jonathan insisted on going. When it was his turn for the visitation, he saw that true to his word, William had made sure that the little black notebook was with her, clasped in her hands. Through his tears Jonathan said, “Hey Julia I brought you something.” He took another small black notebook out of his pocket and placed it next to the one she had. The funeral progressed and in the blink of an eye it was time to leave.

. . .

It has been sixty years since that day. Jonathan went on to become bestselling author, as well a frequent donor to the children’s hospital. The twenty thousand dollars that he had gotten from William helped immensely when it came to college costs. He had donated several times that amount determined to help however he could. He also keeps his promise to this day. Every time he writes a new story, no matter if its short or a full-length novel, it is always in little black notebooks and he always reads them out loud at Julia’s grave, so she is the first person to hear them. In the front of every book were the following words:

In memory of my dearest friend, Julia Connelly.