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What a wonderful story.

One of the guys I use to work with sent this. Kind of sad. Don't know if it is based on a story or not.
Brings up a good point.

Just Stay


A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.

"Your son is here," she said to the old man.

She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young
uniformed Soldier standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand.
The Soldier wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing
a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Soldier could sit beside the bed. All through
the night the young Soldier sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's
hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested
that the Soldier move away and rest awhile.

He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Soldier was oblivious of her
and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter
of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing,
only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Soldier released the now lifeless hand he
had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Soldier interrupted her.

"Who was that man?" he asked.

The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.

"No, he wasn't," the Soldier replied. "I never saw him before in my life."

"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"

"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his
son just wasn't here."

"When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how
much he needed me, I stayed."

"I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His son was killed in Iraq today, and
I was sent to inform him. What was this gentleman's name?"

The nurse with tears in her eyes answered,
"Mr. William Grey............."




The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay....
 

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Harry, thanks for the post! Snopes says it's fiction, but it was uplifting.

While it may have just been an essay, it gave me a lift!

My mother spent several years in a nursing home for dementia patients. Because the home was close to my home, I was able to see her almost every day.

I was often mistaken by other residents as a family member. At first I tried correcting them, but I soon learned to roll with it. It didn't cost me anything to spend a little time with these fine people. I learned of tough times during the Depression, family stories of successes and losses and stories of growing up in Minneapolis.

I met a fellow who grew up in my old neighborhood back in the 20's and 30's. It was fun hearing about how the lake by my house had been a swamp and the city dredged it and made it into a pretty swimming lake surrounded by a public golf course.

These folks are lonely and need attention just like everone else. My mom died six years ago at 90, but I still go back to the nursing home and chat with the staff and patients. It doesn't cost anything and makes you feel good!
 

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The bit that touched me most was mention of the Oxygen tent. The last time that I saw my mother she was in an Oxygen tent and I had to leave her because my compassionate leave from the Royal Air Force was about to expire. More leave was granted a couple of days later so that I could attend my mother's funeral.
 

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True or not, a story of that nature is what we sometimes need to give us a reality check...
 

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The only thing about this story that I have trouble believing is that the nurse had tears in her eyes; she more likely would have had tears streaming down her face. I know I was close to that as I read it.

The old man died without knowing that his son had been killed.

There is a very weak parallel in my life. I was in a near-fatal black ice auto accident that my father knew about. 35 days after that accident I was released with a prognosis of 95% recovery. 6 months after that I began to gradually lose the ability to walk, but I still had a broken right arm that prevented me from driving.. 13 months after that I was told I needed a wheelchair, and a month later I had one that I used for all but the shortest distances. About 6 weeks after that my father, 400 miles (645 km) away, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Work and school obligations caused my family and me to plan to visit him 6 weeks after that. One week before we were going to try ot visit him we got the call that he had passed. Although I will carry with me for the rest of my life the burden that he had not seen me or his grandsons for about 2-1/2years. I also felt some comfort that he never saw me in a wheelchair. He was a WWII veteran who never talked about his experiences. I know only that he was in Europe after D-Day in an engineering corps, and his unit reached Auschwitz.

Harry, may I share this story on Facebook on Memorial Day?
 
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The only thing about this story that I have trouble believing is that the nurse had tears in her eyes; she more likely would have had tears streaming down her face. I know I was close to that as I read it.

The old man died without knowing that his son had been killed.

There is a very weak parallel in my life. I was in a near-fatal black ice auto accident that my father knew about. 35 days after that accident I was released with a prognosis of 95% recovery. 6 months after that I began to gradually lose the ability to walk, but I still had a broken right arm that prevented me from driving.. 13 months after that I was told I needed a wheelchair, and a month later I had one that I used for all but the shortest distances. About 6 weeks after that my father, 400 miles (645 km) away, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Work and school obligations caused my family and me to plan to visit him 6 weeks after that. One week before we were going to try ot visit him we got the call that he had passed. Although I will carry with me for the rest of my life the burden that he had not seen me or his grandsons for about 2-1/2years. I also felt some comfort that he never saw me in a wheelchair. He was a WWII veteran who never talked about his experiences. I know only that he was in Europe after D-Day in an engineering corps, and his unit reached Auschwitz.

Harry, may I share this story on Facebook on Memorial Day?
Of course you may Tom.
 
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