Eight-year-old David was begging for money outside a mall when he noticed a homeless man staring at him for a long time. He ran away thinking this person was dangerous, but he caught him and explained something shocking about the boy’s past.
David Donaldson stood outside International Plaza and Bay Street in Tampa, Florida, and couldn’t hold back his tears. His face was covered in wet streaks, and most people only looked at him for a second before they continued walking. He was there to try to raise money for his mother’s funeral.
David’s mother died after a long battle with cancer, and the funeral home was waiting for the money to pay for everything. The manager was worried about the kid, but David had lied to him, explaining that his uncle was coming soon and would be paying for everything.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Sadly, David didn’t have any family left. He was staying at the apartment, but the rent was due soon. He would not be able to pay, and others would soon discover what was going on. They would call CPS, and he would go into the system.
He hated that idea. That’s why he was at the mall, begging people for money. Some shoppers were familiar with the little boy because he also tried to raise funds throughout his mother’s treatment. They would give him a dollar or two before calling the cops. Luckily, David was able to get away from them.
But now, his mother was finally gone, and she deserved to have a nice service. So, once again, he stood outside there with a sign where he wrote what he needed.
After a long sniffle, David dried his tears, thinking that people might be avoiding him because of his crying. He needed that money, so he had to be brave and stop. But once he cleared his eyes using his hands, David saw someone strange. A man was looking at him from the other side of the street. His stare was unnerving.
The man was dressed in tattered clothing, and it was clear he was homeless. David feared he would become like him soon. But an even scarier thought crossed his mind. What if he wants to steal my money? No! My mom needs it!
David gathered his hat from the floor where people had thrown some extra change and started counting. He placed them inside his pocket quickly and raised his head just to see the man cross the street and walk directly toward him.
The boy’s blood went cold, but he had to think fast. That’s when he stood and raced out of there. He could hear the heavy footsteps of the man running after him, and the man yelled, “Wait boy, I want to talk to you!”
“No! This is my mother’s money! Go away!” David screamed back but didn’t slow his pace.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I don’t want your money, boy! Please, stop!”
The boy didn’t listen, but unfortunately, he entered a dead-end alley and couldn’t escape. “Please, sir. This money is very important. My mother just died, and I need to pay for the funeral,” David pleaded with the man, clutching his right hand over his right pocket where he kept the cash.
The man stopped and approached him slowly now. David could see his unclean state and ragged shirt, but there was something familiar about his face. He also had kind eyes. Maybe he wasn’t lying.
“Again, I don’t want your money, boy. I read your sign. You said your mother died? Can you tell me her name?” the man asked, smiling slightly.
“Maria,” David answered shyly.
“What about you? What’s your name?”
“David Donaldson.”
The man closed his eyes and nodded. Then he looked at the ground, and David could hear his heavy breathing.“Oh, man,” the man whispered and started crying.
“Sir, are you ok? Did you know my mother?” David asked, taking a small step towards the man.
“Yes. I knew her,” the man replied. “But I can’t believe she’s gone. I’m a horrible man.”
“What?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Maria… I mean, your mother was my girlfriend around nine years ago. My name is Charlie Donaldson,” the man answered and looked up at him. David could see the tears in his eyes and the sadness in his expression.
“Why do you have my last name?” David questioned, although the eight-year-old was no fool. He already guessed the reason.
“I’m pretty sure I’m your father, kid,” the man revealed.
The boy had no idea what to say, but it was probably true. The man’s face had looked familiar because they shared the same green eyes.
“Ok, so you don’t want to take my money,” David added, just to confirm.
Charlie laughed bitterly. “No, David. I would never do that. I fell on hard times, and that’s why I’m homeless, but I would not take money from a child. Besides, you need to pay for Maria’s funeral, right? That’s what your sign said.”
“Yeah. It’s expensive,” the boy said, scratching the back of his head with one hand.
“Let me ask you something else. Who are you staying with? An aunt or an uncle?”
“No one.”
“Maria told me she had a sister,” Charlie stated with a frown. He wiped the tears that had streaked his face and looked straight at the boy.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“No. I never met anyone, or maybe, they don’t know Mom died,” David continued, not knowing what else to say. It was the truth. It had always been just the two of them.
“And why are you on the streets? Shouldn’t CPS have taken you in?”
“I lied to some people. I told them my uncle was coming soon. I guess they didn’t call anyone,” David answered. But suddenly, he was curious about something. “If you’re my father, why weren’t you in my life?”
“That’s a long story,” Charlie began and said that he had run away as soon as Maria told him she was pregnant. He didn’t want the responsibility. “But in the end, it was the worst thing I ever did. Karma got to me, and I got mixed up with some bad people. I should’ve stayed with your mother and been a father to you.”
They talked more in that dead-end alley and even had a few laughs despite their sad circumstances. Finally, David had an idea. “Why don’t you come live with me so that I won’t be taken away? But on the condition that you will get a job and help me out. I’m a kid. I can’t do anything without an adult without raising suspicion.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Are you sure? Do you have a house?”
“An apartment. But rent is due at the end of the month. I don’t have the money. I still have to pay for Mom’s funeral,” David continued.
Charlie thought about it for several minutes. He didn’t have a home and had no idea how to raise a kid. But it was a deal he couldn’t pass up. So he moved in with David, and now that he had an address, he could apply for jobs.
Together, they raised enough for a simple funeral for Maria, and they bonded when Charlie told him stories of their time together. David reciprocated and recounted all the things they did together. Eventually, Charlie found a job at Target and paid rent a few weeks later, as the landlord gave them an extension.
David was able to go back to school instead of begging for alms every day. In the end, they thought of each other as family even if they met under the oddest of circumstances.
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t run from your responsibilities. Not everyone is ready to have kids, but you can’t run away from your duties.
- It’s never too late to do the right thing. Charlie moved in with David and paid for everything he could, so the kid would not have to be alone.
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Just a Month After Mom’s Death, Dad Brought a Young Mistress Into Our Home for Christmas – I Was Shocked When I Saw Her
Just a month after my mother lost her battle with cancer, Dad brought his mistress home for Christmas and introduced her as my “NEW MOM.” My heart shattered, but it wasn’t the only thing that left me shaken.
My hands won’t stop trembling as I write this. I need to share about a Christmas dinner that turned into a nightmare and showed me how quickly a family can shatter. There are some moments you wish you could forget, but they end up teaching you the hardest lessons about life, grief, and what it means to move on.
An upset woman | Source: Pexels
It’s been exactly one month since we buried Mom. For three years she fought cancer, and even at the end, she never stopped being… Mom. I remember her last day so clearly — the beeping machines, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the hospital window, and how she squeezed my hand with surprising strength.
“Lily, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice raspy but determined. “Promise me something?”
“Anything, Mom.” I was trying so hard not to cry.
“Take care of your sisters. And your father… he doesn’t do well alone. Never has.” She smiled that soft smile of hers. “But make sure he remembers me?”
“How could anyone forget you?” I choked out.
That was our last real conversation. She slipped away the next morning, with my sisters Sarah and Katie holding one hand and me holding the other.
People at a funeral | Source: Pexels
The first week after the funeral, I moved back home. Dad seemed lost, wandering the house like a ghost. I’d find him standing near Mom’s closet, just staring at her clothes. Or sitting in her garden, touching the roses she’d tended so carefully.
“He’s not eating,” Katie reported during our daily sister check-in calls. “I brought over lasagna, and it’s still sitting untouched in the fridge.”
“Same with the casserole I made,” Sarah added. “Should we be worried?”
I thought we should be. But then everything changed.
It started small. Two weeks after the funeral, Dad cleaned out Mom’s closet without telling any of us. Just boxed everything up and dropped it at the local charity.
An empty wardrobe | Source: Pexels
“Her favorite sweater?” I asked, horrified when I found out. “The blue one she always wore for Christmas?”
“It’s just taking up space, Lily,” he said, suddenly practical. “Your mom wouldn’t want us dwelling.”
A few days later, he joined a gym. He started getting haircuts at some trendy place instead of the salon where Mom had known the owner for 20 years. He bought new clothes and even started humming while doing dishes. At 53, Dad was starting to act like a 20-year-old young man.
“He’s handling it differently,” Katie insisted during one of our emergency meetings at my apartment. “Everyone grieves in their own way.”
I was pacing, unable to sit still. “This isn’t grief. He’s acting like he just got released from prison instead of losing his wife of 30 years.”
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
Sarah curled up on my couch and tried to keep peace. “Maybe he’s trying to stay strong for us? You know how Mom always worried about him being alone.”
“There’s a difference between being strong and whatever this is,” I said, watching through my window as night fell over the city. “Something’s not right.”
I had no idea how not right things were about to get.
“Girls,” Dad called us into the living room one evening, his voice weirdly excited. “Family meeting. I have something important to tell you.”
He’d gotten all dressed up — a new shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes. He’d even put on cologne. Mom’s picture smiled down from the mantel as we gathered, and I swear Dad’s eyes looked delighted.
A senior man in a suit | Source: Pexels
“I’ve met someone special,” he announced, practically bouncing on his feet. “Her name is Amanda, and I want you all to meet her.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Katie’s face went white. Sarah started fidgeting with her ring.
“What exactly do you mean you’ve met someone?” My voice came out strangled.
Dad’s smile never wavered. “I mean I’m not getting any younger, Lily. Life goes on. Amanda makes me happy, and I want her to be part of our family.”
“Part of our family?” Katie’s voice cracked. “Dad, Mom’s been gone for three weeks!”
“And what am I supposed to do?” He crossed his arms. “Sit alone in this empty house forever?”
A stunned young woman facing a man | Source: Midjourney
“Maybe grieve?” I suggested, my anger rising. “Remember your wife? Our mother?”
“I am grieving,” he snapped. “But I’m also living. Your mother wouldn’t want me to be lonely all my life, girls!”
“Don’t.” I stood up. “Don’t you dare tell us what Mom would want. You don’t get to use her to justify this.”
Dad just walked away, scowling, leaving the three of us in a daze.
A week later, he dropped the next bomb.
“Christmas dinner,” he announced over the phone. “I want Amanda to join us.”
Close-up of a man holding his coat | Source: Pexels
I nearly dropped my coffee mug. “You’re bringing her to Christmas dinner? Mom’s favorite holiday?”
“It’s the perfect time for everyone to meet,” he said, sounding irritatingly reasonable. “Amanda’s excited to meet you all. She’s even offered to help cook.”
“Help cook?” I gripped the phone tighter. “In Mom’s kitchen? Using Mom’s recipes?”
“Lily—”
“Mom’s been gone for four weeks, Dad. Four. Weeks.”
“And what should I do?” His voice rose. “Cancel Christmas? Sit alone while my daughters judge me?”
“Maybe respect Mom’s memory? Remember 30 years of marriage? The woman who spent last Christmas in the hospital still trying to make it special for everyone?”
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m still your father,” he said sharply. “And Amanda is coming to Christmas dinner. That’s final.”
“Fine.” I hung up and immediately called my sisters.
“He’s lost his mind,” Katie declared during our emergency video chat. “Completely lost it.”
Sarah looked like she might cry. “What do we do?”
I had an idea forming. A terrible, perfect idea.
Christmas Eve arrived cold and snowy. I spent the morning in Mom’s kitchen making her stuffing recipe. Every few minutes I caught myself turning to ask her a question, the grief hitting fresh each time I remembered she wasn’t there.
A woman decorating a Christmas tree | Source: Pexels
Katie arrived early to help, bringing Mom’s special tablecloth, the one with tiny embroidered holly leaves that Mom would spend hours ironing each year.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Katie admitted as we set the table. “Kept thinking about Mom, how she’d make us polish the silver until it sparkled.”
“Remember how she’d position everything just right?” Sarah added, arriving with pies. “The centerpiece had to be exactly in the middle.”
“And the photos,” I smiled sadly. “So many photos before anyone could eat.”
“Dad would complain his food was getting cold,” Katie laughed, then stopped abruptly. “God, I miss her.”
A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
The doorbell rang at exactly six. Dad rushed to answer it, checking his reflection in the hall mirror first.
“Everyone,” his voice boomed with pride, “this is Amanda.”
I was stunned. She couldn’t have been older than 25. Long blonde hair, expensive boots, perfect makeup. She looked like she could have been our younger sister. My father looked like he’d won the lottery.
“This is your new MOM!” He announced, his arm around her waist. “I hope you all got her something nice for Christmas!”
Katie dropped her wine glass. The red spread across Mom’s white tablecloth like a wound, the holly leaves disappearing under the stain.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Dinner was excruciating. Amanda kept trying to make a conversation, her voice high and nervous.
“This stuffing is amazing,” she said. “Family recipe?”
“My mother’s recipe,” I replied, emphasizing each word. “She made it every Christmas for 30 years. This was her favorite holiday.”
“Oh.” Amanda pushed food around her plate. “I’m so sorry about your loss. George told me—”
“George?” I cut her off with a wicked grin. “You mean Dad?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Lily!”
A woman grinning | Source: Midjourney
“No, I want to know… when exactly did he tell you about Mom? Before or after he asked you out?”
“Lily, stop,” Dad whispered.
“Did he tell you she spent three years fighting cancer? That she was still having chemo this time last year?” I couldn’t stop. “That she made him promise to keep our family together?”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s voice thundered across the table.
Amanda looked close to tears. “I should probably—”
“No, stay,” Dad insisted. “Family gets uncomfortable sometimes. That’s normal.”
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
“Family?” I laughed bitterly. “She’s practically my age, Dad. This isn’t family. It’s creepy.”
“Present time!” Dad announced after dinner, desperate to change the mood. He’d always played Santa, but watching him do it now felt wrong.
I watched Amanda open gifts — a scarf from Katie, a gift card from Sarah. Then she reached for my carefully wrapped box.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she gasped, lifting out the antique jewelry box. Mom’s favorite, the one she’d kept her wedding ring in. “Thank you, Lily. This is so thoughtful.”
“Open it,” I said softly. “There’s something special inside.”
A woman holding a gift box | Source: Pexels
The room fell silent as she lifted the lid. Inside lay a photograph of Mom in her garden last summer, surrounded by her roses and all three of us girls beside her. Her last good day before the hospital. Her smile was still bright and full of life, even though we knew what was coming.
Beneath it lay my note: “You are not my mother. No one will ever replace her. Remember that.”
Amanda’s hands started shaking. “I… I need to go.”
“Honey, wait—” Dad reached for her, but she was already running, leaving her coat and muffler behind as she fled into the snowy night.
A woman walking away | Source: Pexels
Dad came back inside alone, snow melting on his shoulders, his face ashen.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“I gave her a reality check,” I stood my ground. “Did you really think you could replace Mom with someone my age and we’d just accept it?”
“You had no right,” he growled. “You’re not letting me live my life!”
“Live your life? Mom’s been dead for four weeks! Her side of the bed isn’t even cold!” I was shouting now, years of watching Mom suffer, weeks of watching Dad move on, all pouring out at once. “Did you even love her?”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
“How dare you?” His voice broke. “I loved your mother for 30 years. I watched her fight. I watched her die. But she’s gone, Lily. She’s gone, and I’m still here. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not this,” I whispered, tears finally falling. “Anything but this.”
Katie and Sarah stood frozen, Christmas tree lights casting shadows on their tears. Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering Amanda’s footprints as she’d run away from our family’s broken pieces.
My dad blamed me for not letting him move on, but I think his actions were deeply disrespectful to my late mother. I firmly believe I did the right thing by defending her memory and making it unequivocally clear to Amanda that she could never fill my mother’s shoes.
A woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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