A medic is called to an older woman’s house to help by her grandson and sees photos of himself as a child hanging on her walls.
Rick Olson had dedicated his life to helping others, but he never imagined his vocation would lead to the solution to the biggest mystery of his life: his mother’s death.
His father, Frank Olson had told Rick that his mother, Blanche, had passed away in a car accident when he was two years old. Blanche’s car had swerved out of control on a rainy night, and by the time help had arrived, it had been too late.
Rick vowed to himself that he would do his best so that no other little boy would curl up in bed crying for his mom, clutching a scarf that smelled like her. He was going to make a difference, and so he became a paramedic — one of the best.
It wasn’t the easiest of jobs. Rick got to see people at some of the worse moments of their lives, he saw them broken and suffering, but knowing he was helping them, saving lives, made it all worthwhile.
One afternoon, Rick and his partner Bob received an emergency call from the dispatcher sending them to an address in the suburbs. A little boy had called 911 saying that his grandmother had fallen and couldn’t get up.
“Damn,” said Bob. “Another slip and fall. Let’s hope the lady’s not too badly hurt!”
“Yeah,” said Rick. “Imagine the poor kid alone and calling 911..”
Bob turned on the siren and they sped away to the address, following the route defined by their onboard GPS. Ten minutes later they were pulling up in front of a lovely red brick house with a carefully tended garden.
They parked the ambulance, got out, and rang the doorbell. Within minutes a small voice on the other side of the door said, “Are you the police?”
Rick answered, “No, we’re the paramedics, we’ve brought the ambulance to help your grandmother.” There was a brief pause, then the sound of the door unlocking.
A boy who looked about five years old opened the door. “Please,” he said, “you have to help my granny!”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Bob said gently. “What’s your name buddy?”
“I’m Eric. My grandmother’s name is Mrs. Garrow,” he said very seriously. “She’s in the lounge. Please help her!”
Bob and Rick followed little Eric through the lovely house, and into an elegant lounge. In the middle of the floor lay a woman in her mid-sixties. She was flat on her back and deadly pale.
Rick knelt at her side immediately. “Ma’am,” he said. “Can you hear me?” The woman opened her eyes and looked up at him. She nodded and tried to speak. Rick started taking her pulse, while Bob quickly examined her.
Rick flashed a light in the woman’s eyes and was relieved to see her pupils respond normally. “Mrs. Garrow,” Rick said gently. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Mrs. Garrow nodded and whispered, “I was standing on the chair…to change a lightbulb…but I slipped…My leg…I think I broke my leg!”
“Ma’am,” Bob said. “We are going to load you up on the gurney and take you to State Hospital…”
“No!” cried Mrs. Garrow anxiously. “Please, you have to call my daughter. Eric can’t stay here alone! There’s an address book in the hallway, her number is right on top!”
Bob got up and went into the hallway to look for Eric’s mom’s number, while Rick prepared Mrs. Garrow for transportation. Then he looked up and saw a photo of a woman with a toddler, a photo he knew very well.
It was the last photo he’d taken with his mother, a photo he cherished! How had this photo ended up in the Garrow house! Mrs. Garrow moaned in pain, and Rick knew he’d have to leave the questions for later.
Coincidences are what people who don’t believe in angels call miracles.
All the way to the hospital, Rick sat beside Mrs. Garrow holding her hand, staring at her face. She was nothing like the woman in the photo, was she? The coloring was the same, and the eyes…
At the hospital, the doctors determined that Mrs. Garrow had broken her leg in three places and was going to need surgery, so Rick decided he’d come back in a few days and find out who this woman was.
Might she be a relative or a distant cousin of his mother’s? His father had told him that when his mother passed away he’d moved away from Arkansas and lost touch with Blanche’s family.
Three days later, Rick was at Mrs. Garrow’s bedside with a big bouquet of flowers. Mrs. Garrow was sitting up in bed and looking much better. She smiled when she saw Rick, and that smile tugged at his memory.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Hello!” Mrs. Garrow cried. “What a surprise! Do you bring all the people you rescue flowers?”
Rick was about to give a glib answer, then he changed his mind. “No,” he said quietly. “The reason I’m here is that I wanted to ask you about a photo you have in your house. A photo of a little boy and his mom.”
Mrs. Garrow sat up even straighter. “That’s none of your business! It’s private, please leave!”
Rick shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that. You see, that’s a photo of me and my mother taken just days before she died and I want to know why you have it.”
Mrs. Garrow was deadly pale. “Your mother?” she whispered. “A photo of your mother?”
“Yes,” Rick said. “I have the right to know who you are and where you got it!”
Mrs. Garrow was trembling and her eyes were full of tears. “Ricky?” she whispered. “It’s you?”
Rick felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer. “You know me? How do you know me?”
“Oh baby, it’s me, it’s mommy…” Mrs. Garrow cried and stretched out her arms.
“No,” Rick said backing away. “My mother’s dead, she’s been dead for 23 years…My father…” And then Rick turned his back on Mrs. Garrow and ran out of that hospital.
That night, he went to visit his father. Frank Olson opened the door with a cheerful smile. “Hey Rick!” he cried. “This is a nice surprise!”
Rick didn’t have time for chit-chat. “Dad, why did you tell me mom was dead?”
Frank Olson’s mouth dropped open, and a blank look fell over his face. “Your mom…Your mom is dead!”
“No, Dad,” Rick said. “She’s not. I saw her today. She’s alive and she recognized me. Why did you tell me she was dead?”
Frank sat on his sofa and dropped his head into his hands. “She was going to leave me, Ricky, she was going to take you away…” He lifted his head and his eyes glimmered coldly. “So I took you first.”
“You let me cry for my mom, you let a two-year-old believe his mother was dead?” Rick gasped. He saw Frank try to get up, open his mouth to make excuses, but he just turned his back and walked away.
He drove back to the hospital and stood by Blanche Garrow’s bed. “He told me you were dead,” he said, tears running down his face. “You don’t know how I cried for you…”
Blanche stretched out her arms, and this time Rick stepped into her embrace. “I cried for you too,” Blanche whispered. “I never stopped looking for you, even after I remarried and had your sister, I never ever forgot you!”
Rick and Blanche found each other again due to the strangest of coincidences, or maybe it was something else. Maybe coincidences are what people who don’t believe in angels call miracles.
What can we learn from this story?
- No matter how much time goes by, a loving heart never forgets. Rick never forgot his mother, and when he saw the photo on Mrs. Garrow’s wall he was determined to discover the truth.
- Separating a mother from her baby is the darkest cruelty. Frank took Rick away to punish Blanche for leaving him.
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.
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