Before disembarking the plane he had just landed, Captain Edward Blair noticed a lone man on the plane who refused to leave. Upon looking clearly, he realized the man was his carbon copy.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Edward Blair speaking. We have just landed at the Chicago Midway International Airport. We hope you enjoyed your flight with us, and we wish to see you on one of your future flights,” the captain spoke from the cockpit after successfully landing the aircraft.
After parking the plane, the captain and his first officer followed protocol by waiting for all passengers to disembark before leaving the cockpit. When it was their turn to leave, he opened the cockpit door and saw the flight purser talking to a man who refused to leave the plane.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Everything good here?” Edward asked, approaching them.
The flight purser nodded. “I’ll give you guys some time,” she smiled before walking towards the back of the plane.
Edward was confused about why she wanted to leave him alone with the passenger until he realized what she meant. There stood a man who looked exactly like him. Before he could say anything, the man spoke.
“Do you want to see mom?” he asked.
“I can’t believe my eyes. Is it you, Adam? Did mom ever come back? She’s alive and well?” Edward replied, so many thoughts suddenly rushing to his head.
Adam was Edward’s twin brother, whom he hadn’t seen in decades. Edward left the orphanage when he was eight, and they were now 32 years old.
“I asked you a question first. Do you want to see your mom?” Adam asked again with an impatient tone.
Edward nodded, and Adam stepped out of the plane. Edward followed behind and the two of them got into a taxi heading towards the city.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
On the way, Adam was silent the entire time. Meanwhile, Edward couldn’t help but try and explain himself with tears in his eyes.
“When she left us at the orphanage, I really didn’t think she’d ever come back. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I understood that she couldn’t feed us because dad left, but I thought she left us because a part of her wanted to leave us too. I didn’t think she’d ever come back, Adam,” he explained.
“So instead, you agreed to be adopted by a wealthy family. You chose them over ME! I begged you for days not to leave me in that place, but you chose to live a life of comfort over your own blood. She came back a year after you left, and she couldn’t forgive herself for losing you,” Adam answered back.
“Up until today, she blames herself for not having enough to keep you. Don’t get me wrong – I hate you. In fact, I hate you as much as I hate our father. I stopped looking for you years ago, but when I heard your name on that plane, I remembered mom and her wish to see you,” he added with gritted teeth.
After a couple of minutes, the taxi came to a stop. Adam got out and stormed towards an old house that surprised Edward. He realized that his brother and mother lived in poverty.
Although Adam had a long-time girlfriend, he could not ask her to marry him because he spent most of his time working and caring for his sick mother. He’s always wanted to settle down and start a family, but he felt indebted to his mom and wanted to make sure she lived the rest of her life comfortably.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
As they entered the house, Edward immediately saw his mother, Annie, in a wheelchair, sitting in their living room. When she saw both her sons in the same room, she sobbed and could not calm down.
“Oh my god, it’s you, Edward. Adam, you and your brother are both here. You’re back,” she sobbed, bringing her wheelchair closer to her sons.
“He’s not back, mom. He just came to see you, but he’ll be back in his mansion when the night ends,” Adam said passively while pouring a glass of water for his mom to calm down.
Edward didn’t hesitate to walk toward his mom, hug her and beg for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you’d come back for us. I wish you could forgive me,” he cried.
“I don’t blame you, son. I don’t blame you at all. I am sorry for not being able to give you and Adam a good life from the beginning. I wish I could, but it was so difficult for me to find work. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so glad that you’re here,” his mother replied, stroking his hair as they embraced.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Would you like to stay the night? We have a lot to catch up on. I’d love for you to spend more time with us,” she asked him.
“I’m sorry, mom, but I have to go home tonight. I got a job in France, so my adoptive parents and I will be moving. The flight back home to Chicago was my last one here. I think it was meant to be that Adam was in the flight, as I got to see you,” he explained.
After hearing that his son was moving to Europe, Annie was heartbroken. “You’re leaving?” she said weakly. “I wish we could have found each other sooner… I’m sad that our time together was so short.”
“I’m sorry, mom. I will visit you as much as I can. I am sure I’ll have flights to the US,” Edward said, apologizing once more.
“Stop getting her hopes up. She doesn’t deserve to be heartbroken at her age. Get out!” Adam retorted, realizing that his brother simply just wanted to see their mother but not build a connection with her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
A couple of days after their encounter, Adam noticed a transportation service arrive in the house across from theirs, and men started loading furniture inside, along with appliances.
“Mom, it seems someone bought the house right in front of ours. We’ll have new neighbors soon,” he told her.
Annie was delighted, as she had always wanted neighbors. She enjoyed baking and was looking to share her creations with other people.
However, they were surprised when the man who followed shortly after, driving a luxury vehicle, turned out to be Edward. Adam and Annie opened their front door to confront him. “What are you doing here?” Adam asked his brother.
“I spoke to my wife about what happened the other day, and we both realized that our home wasn’t in France, but here. I turned down the job offer from the French airline and told my adoptive parents I wanted to relocate somewhere in Chicago instead. They understood and promised they’d keep in touch while they enjoyed their retirement in Europe,” Edward explained.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I am sorry that I never got a chance to look for you, mom. I know I’ve made many mistakes in the past, but I hope you give me a chance to prove to you that I am not a bad person and that I genuinely want to spend time with you. I want to reconnect with you too, Adam. We are brothers. I love you both, and I will prove just how much if you’d let me,” he added.
Annie could not believe it, and she began to cry. Edward introduced his wife Emma and young daughter Alex to Annie and Adam, warming their hearts. While Annie caught up with Alex and Emma, Adam and Edward had a good talk.
“I know you don’t trust me at all, Adam, but please give me this chance to prove to you that I have good intentions for you and mom,” he begged.
“I’m willing to let go of my past issues for mom’s sake. She looks happy, and that’s all that matters to me,” Adam admitted.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The brothers caught up with one another, and Edward found out that Adam had a long-time girlfriend he wanted to marry. He volunteered to take care of their mother in the house next door while Adam worked on his own personal relationship.
Edward had Adam’s house repaired, and the renovations made it look good as new. Adam began to work on his personal life while Edward and his family cared for Annie next door. The family would get together every night for a good meal and conversation.
What can we learn from this story?
- People meant to be in your life will always find their way back to you. Adam didn’t know that Edward was on his flight back to Chicago that day. Their chance encounter brought Edward back to the company of his mother and brother, whom he had not seen for years.
- It’s never too late to start over. Adam was angry at his brother Edward for abandoning him, but they were able to set aside their differences for the sake of their mom. They ended up rebuilding their relationships with one another, leading them to become a stronger and happier family.
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My Fiancée Vacuumed Up and Threw Away My Dead Mother’s Ashes from the Urn
I treasured my mother’s ashes for three years after her death. Her urn was that one sacred thing I asked my fiancée to never touch. But in her rush to make our home spotless, my fiancée vacuumed up the ashes, threw them out with the trash, and hid the truth from me.
Does the death of a loved one mean they’re gone from us forever? My mother Rosemary was my sun, moon, stars, and everything in between. After her death, I still felt her presence through the urn that held her ashes. Until the day my fiancée decided to “clean” our apartment, and my world shattered all over again.
An older lady’s framed photo, an urn, and glowing candles on a table | Source: Midjourney
The evening air was thick with memories as I stood in our living room, touching the silver frame that held Mom’s favorite photo.
She wore her favorite white dress and smiled at the camera, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
It had been five days since the accident that killed Mom, but some days, the pain felt as fresh as the morning I got the call from the hospital.
A man holding an older woman’s framed photo | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Christian,” my sister Florence called from the couch. She had moved in after Mom passed, and her presence helped fill the echoing emptiness of my heart.
“Remember how Mom would always say grace before dinner, even if we were just having cereal?”
I smiled, running my finger along the frame. “Yeah, and remember how she’d catch us sneaking cookies before dinner? She’d try to look stern but end up laughing instead.”
A sad woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“God, the way she’d put her hands on her hips,” Florence said, wiping her eyes. “Like she was trying so hard to be mad at us.”
“‘Lord give me strength!’” we said in unison, mimicking Mom’s exasperated tone, and for a moment, it felt like she was there with us.
The front door opened, and my girlfriend Kiara walked in, her footsteps hesitant. She’d been like that since Mom died, always hovering at the edges of our grief, never quite knowing how to step in.
A woman in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
“I picked up dinner,” she said, holding up a takeout bag. “Chinese. From that place you like, Christian.”
“Thanks,” I replied coldly. Something had changed between us since Mom’s death. It was like a wall had grown where there used to be an open door.
Two weeks after the funeral, I came home early from work to find Kiara packing a suitcase. The sight stopped me cold in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I asked, though the answer was written in every careful fold of clothing she placed in the bag.
A woman packing her clothes | Source: Pexels
She didn’t look up. “I need some time, Christian. This… all of this… it’s too much.”
“Too much? My mother died, Kiara. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know how to help you!” She finally met my eyes, her own filled with tears. “You cry every night. You spend hours staring at her pictures. You and Florence keep talking about memories I wasn’t part of, and I feel like an outsider in my own home.”
“So your solution is to leave? When I need you most?”
A sad man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Please try to understand—”
“Understand what? That my girlfriend of four years can’t handle a few weeks of grief? That you’d rather run away than support me?”
“That’s not fair!” Kiara’s hands trembled as she folded another shirt. “I’m trying my best! But it looks like you’ll take forever to move on, Chris.”
“Your best?” I grabbed the shirt from her hands. “Your best is packing your bags while I’m at work? Not even having the decency to tell me to my face that you care more about yourself than me… and my grief?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I was going to call you—”
“Oh, that makes it so much better!” I threw the shirt across the room. “What happened to ‘I’ll always be there for you’? What happened to ‘we’re in this together’?”
“I’m not equipped for this, Christian. I can’t be what you need right now.”
“I never asked you to be anything but present, Kiara. Just to sit with me, to hold my hand, to let me know I’m not alone. But I guess that’s too much to ask, isn’t it?”
A distressed man with a woman | Source: Pexels
She picked up her suitcase, her shoulders shaking. “I’m staying with my friend Shannon for a while. I’ll text you. I just… I need space to figure this out.”
“Figure what out? How to be a decent human being? Go ahead, run away. It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Kiara left without saying anything.
Florence moved in the next day, bringing with her the comfort of shared grief and understanding. We spent evenings looking through old photo albums, crying together, and laughing at memories of Mom’s terrible dancing and amazing cooking.
A man watching a woman leave with her bag | Source: Pexels
“She would have hated this,” Florence said one night, gesturing at the takeout containers littering our coffee table. “Remember how she used to say fast food was ‘the devil’s cooking’?”
“But she’d still take us to McDonald’s after doctor appointments,” I added, smiling at the memory. “Said it was ‘medicinal French fries.’”
“Chris, did Kiara call?”
“Nope! Just texted. You know, I stayed with her through her father’s illness, her bad days, her everything. And yet here I am, alone in my own grief. I needed her, but maybe she just didn’t love me enough.”
An upset an sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
The only way Kiara contacted me was through texts like, “Hope you’re okay.”
I typed and deleted, “I needed you, Kiara.” But sent, “I’m managing. Thanks.”
A month after Kiara left, she asked to meet at our usual coffee shop. She sat across from me, looking smaller somehow, her hands wrapped around an untouched latte.
“Shannon’s boyfriend confronted me yesterday,” she hesitantly began. “Called me selfish and cold-hearted. Said I abandoned you when you needed me most.”
A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Unsplash
I stayed silent, watching her struggle with the words.
“He was right,” Kiara continued. “I’ve started therapy, Christian. I want to be better. I want to learn how to be there for you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
“How do I know you won’t leave again?” I asked, the fear raw in my voice.
“Because I love you,” she replied, reaching across the table. “And I’m learning that love means staying, even when it hurts. Even when you don’t know what to say or do. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
A woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Unsplash
Life settled into a new pattern after that. Kiara moved back in, and three years later, we started planning our wedding.
Mom’s urn remained on its special table in the corner, surrounded by her photos and her plastic rosary — the one she’d carried everywhere, even to the grocery store.
“We should divide the ashes,” I suggested to Florence one evening. “You could have half.”
She shook her head, touching the urn gently. “No, let’s keep them together. It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
An urn on a shelf | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about Mom and how much I’d miss her at my wedding. I’d already decided: the urn with her ashes would have a special spot in the front row of the church. It would make me feel like Mom was there, blessing me as I took this important step in my life.
The wedding planning consumed our days. And Kiara seemed different. She was more present and understanding.
She held me when the grief hit unexpectedly, sat through stories about Mom without fidgeting, and even asked questions about her sometimes.
Grayscale shot of bridal accessories | Source: Pexels
Then, the call from Florence came on a Tuesday evening, just three days before my wedding. “Hey, Chris? I was wondering if I could have Mom’s rosary. The plastic one? I found a photo of her holding it, and—”
“Of course,” I said, moving toward the urn. “Let me just—”
The words died in my throat as I opened it. Inside, where Mom’s ashes should have been, sat a Ziploc bag filled with… SAND? The rosary lay beside it, exactly where I’d left it three years ago.
The front door opened, and Kiara walked in carrying shopping bags. One look at my face, and hers drained of color.
“What did you do to Mom’s ashes?” I asked.
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
She set the bags down slowly, her hands trembling. “Honey, it’s not what you think. I didn’t do it intentionally—”
“What did you do, Kiara?”
A long silence followed. Then she confessed, “I was cleaning while you were at work a few months ago. The apartment needed a deep clean, and—”
“And what?”
“I picked up the urn to clean the table and accidentally dropped it. It shattered. I quickly assembled the ashes into a bag. But the bag tore. The ashes spilled onto the carpet. I… I panicked. I vacuumed them up and threw the ashes into the trash outside.”
My knees buckled. “You vacuumed my mother’s ashes and threw them in the trash?”
A woman using a vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know what to do. I got some sand from the park nearby. Found a replica of the same urn in the antique shop downtown. I filled it up with the sand. I… I thought you’d never open it again.”
“Never open it? You thought I’d never want to see my mother’s ashes again?”
“I was trying to clean the house. It was just an accident.”
“Clean?” I slammed my hand against the wall. “Those weren’t dust bunnies under the couch, Kiara! That was my mother! The only physical piece of her I had left!”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Christian!” she sobbed. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Clearly!” I picked up the urn, cradling it to my chest. “You weren’t thinking when you decided to ‘clean’ around the one thing I specifically asked you never to touch. You weren’t thinking when you vacuumed up my mother’s remains like they were dirt. And you certainly weren’t thinking when you replaced them with sand and lied to my face for months!”
“Please, Christian, we can fix this—”
“Fix this? How exactly do you propose we fix this, Kiara? Should we go dumpster diving? Should we sift through garbage bags looking for my mother’s ashes?”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll do anything—”
“Did you even try, Kiara? Did you even attempt to salvage anything? Or did you just panic and run to the park for sand, like you always run away when things get hard?”
Her silence filled the room like poison.
“That’s what I thought.” I started gathering Mom’s photos from the table before dumping the sand from the urn. “You know what the worst part is? I actually believed you’d changed. I thought all that therapy and all those promises meant something. But you’re still the same person who left me when my mother died. You’re still running from the hard stuff.”
Close-up shot of an angry man yelling at a woman | Source: Pexels
“Our wedding’s in three days. Please… I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Where are you going, Christian?”
“Away from you!” I grabbed my keys and things. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Before stepping out, I looked back, hoping stupidly for a sign of regret. Anything to show she understood what she’d done.
But Kiara just stared at the floor, her face unreadable, and already distant. My chest tightened, and the last bit of hope drained out of me. Without another word, I turned and left, the empty urn heavy in my hands.
A man walking away with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
The hotel room I checked in felt sterile and cold. I sat on the edge of the bed, Mom’s photos spread around me. My phone buzzed continuously with messages from Kiara, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them.
How would I tell Florence? How could I explain that the last piece of our mother was likely buried in a landfill or blown away like dust because my fiancée treated her remains like dirt?
As dawn broke, I stared at the urn one last time, realizing I was left with only emptiness and betrayal.
A distressed man | Source: Pexels
Things would never be the same, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive my fiancée. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I never could. But deep down, in a corner of my heart, I hoped my mother would forgive me.
I took the rosary, feeling the familiar smooth plastic under my fingers.
“The night before your accident, you made Florence and me promise to keep it safe, Mom. Said it would help us find our way when we felt lost,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Maybe that’s why you wanted us to have it. Because you knew that someday, we’d need something more than your ashes to hold onto.”
A man holding a rosary | Source: Pixabay
I clutched the rosary tighter, remembering Mom’s words, “Love isn’t in the things we keep, dear. It’s in the memories we make and the forgiveness we offer.”
I don’t know if I can forgive Kiara. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mom’s ashes being sucked away into nothing. How do you forgive something like that?
I stepped out onto the seashore nearby. The city lights blurred through my tears as I clutched the empty urn and rosary to my chest. A gentle breeze stirred, reminding me of how Mom used to say the wind carried whispers from heaven.
An emotional man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, looking up at the sky. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect your ashes. I had one job — to keep you safe. But I failed. But I want you to know… wherever you are… that you’re still here with me. In every breath I take, in every memory I hold, and in every prayer these beads have witnessed. I love you, Mom. I’ll love you until my last breath and beyond that. Please forgive me.”
The wind seemed to wrap around me like one of her warm embraces, and for a moment, I could almost hear her whisper, “There’s nothing to forgive, dear. Nothing at all. Love you too.”
Silhouette of a man standing on the seashore | Source: Pexels
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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