We’ll Make It Through
When the tears run dry and the strength to bear loss fades, you must force yourself to live—no matter what—to bring kindness and joy to those around you. Most of all, you need to know someone still needs you.
Edward and his wife, Evelyn, wept over their son in the hospital ward where thirteen-year-old Oliver had been brought after being hit by a car. He was their only child—a bright, kind-hearted boy they adored.
“Doctor, please, just tell us—will our Oliver pull through?” Evelyn begged, searching the doctor’s eyes, though he kept avoiding her gaze.
“We’re doing everything we can,” was all he said.
Edward and Evelyn weren’t wealthy, but they’d have found any sum of money if it meant saving their son. Yet no amount of love or money could change the truth—Oliver was slipping away. Unconscious, he had only hours left.
In the next ward lay Daniel, a boy of about fourteen. A foster child, life had been far from kind to him. He understood his condition—his weak heart could give out any moment. A donor heart wasn’t an option for someone like him.
When the elderly doctor checked on him, he’d say the same thing, never quite meeting his eyes:
“Hold on, Daniel. We’ll find you a heart. Just keep hoping.”
But Daniel knew the truth. He didn’t cry.
“Time’s running out,” he thought. “Better accept it. I’ll watch the blue sky, the green grass, the sun warming everything—soon, I won’t see any of it.”
His carers from the foster home visited, offering empty comforts, their eyes flickering away:
“It’ll be alright. We’ll hope for the best.”
He nodded, not bothering to tell them he already knew.
Once, pretending to sleep, he overheard his carer speaking to the doctor.
“If there’s any chance—save him. He’s a good lad. If a donor heart comes up, we’ll handle the paperwork.”
The doctor sighed. “You know I can’t promise anything.”
Breathing grew harder. Daniel closed his eyes, thinking, “Just let it be painless when it happens…”
His foster brother, Jamie, visited often—older, tougher, but now crying. Daniel comforted *him*:
“Don’t worry, Jamie. Maybe there’s life after this. We’ll meet again—just not soon.”
Lying there, Daniel thought like an adult.
“I know my life’s hanging by a thread. It’s a shame—no more warm rain, bright sun, or winter’s crunching snow.”
He didn’t believe in miracles. When the doctor approached him one last time, looking him straight in the eyes, he said:
“Get ready for surgery, Daniel. Let’s hope for the best.”
Daniel didn’t react. He didn’t believe it would save him. He didn’t know Oliver’s parents were fighting their own battle in the doctor’s office. He’d never even met the boy.
Evelyn sobbed, shouting:
“I won’t let anyone take my son’s heart!”
Edward stayed silent, torn—until the doctor pressed:
“You know we can’t save Oliver. But another boy can live because of him. Time’s running out. Decide now.”
Edward finally spoke, his voice hollow:
“Do it. Let our son’s heart beat in someone else.”
Evelyn went quiet, sedated.
In the operating room, Daniel closed his eyes, unafraid. He imagined meeting his parents—gone too soon in a crash. No one told him about the transplant. He didn’t believe in miracles.
But when he woke, the doctor was smiling down at him—*looking* at him properly for the first time.
“There you are. Everything’s alright now.”
For the first time in years, Daniel felt hope.
“Maybe… maybe it’s real?” he wondered, before drifting back to sleep.
Oliver’s parents waited, knowing their boy was gone but hoping his heart would live on in someone else.
The doctor found them afterward.
“The operation was a success. Thank you. Daniel’s alive because of you.”
Evelyn broke down. Edward couldn’t speak, just nodded.
Weeks passed. Daniel recovered, meeting Oliver’s parents—now visiting him daily. When he was discharged, Edward and Evelyn surprised him:
“Daniel, we’d like to adopt you—if you’ll have us. It wasn’t an easy decision.”
Stunned, he whispered, “Yes.”
He didn’t know how hard it had been for them. Evelyn had refused at first—until she remembered Oliver’s heart now beat in Daniel’s chest. She and Edward had argued, then cried together. Maybe Daniel could fill some of the void.
Daniel felt awkward around them, especially Evelyn—her scrutiny, her tears. She compared everything to Oliver.
“Oliver did it better. Oliver was quicker. Oliver was smarter.”
Daniel called them “Mr. and Mrs.”, never “Mum” or “Dad”. Edward tried to smooth things over.
“Give her time. She’s grieving.”
Daniel waited. He tried not to upset her, but Evelyn’s bitterness grew—until one day, she snapped.
“I can’t do this. The difference between him and Oliver—it’s too much.” She packed a bag and left.
That evening, Daniel approached Edward.
“Take me back to foster care. I’m just causing trouble.”
Edward looked at him—really looked—and saw the same kindness Oliver had had. He pulled Daniel close.
“No. We’re men. We’ll make it through.”
Life settled. They cooked together, talked nightly—but both missed Evelyn.
Then Edward mentioned, “Tomorrow’s her birthday.”
Something shifted in Daniel. He hugged Edward tight.
“Dad, let’s bring Mum home.”
Edward cried—for the first time since Oliver’s death.
The next day, they stood at her parents’ doorstep. When Evelyn opened the door, Daniel handed her flowers.
“Mum, come home. We miss you. Happy birthday.”
Evelyn froze, then burst into tears, hugging him.
“Of course, son. I’m sorry—so sorry.”
A miracle had happened—Daniel got life, parents, love. And he owed it all to a boy he’d never met.
