A career spent caring for children taught me resilience, but nothing prepared me for the little boy I met decades ago—a child with a failing heart and a quiet bravery far beyond his years. His surgery was complex, yet successful. By morning, his heartbeat was strong and his future finally possible. But when I entered his hospital room, it was empty. His parents had signed the discharge papers and vanished, leaving only folded blankets and a small stuffed dinosaur behind.
My wife and I met him the next day. Unsure of the future but certain he deserved love, we kept visiting—until he became part of our home.