I settled the remaining medical expenses connected to June’s treatment, restored the savings I had used to help her, paid off the balance on my home, and reduced the amount of extra work I had been accepting simply to stay ahead.
For the first time in years, I could look at an unexpected bill without feeling my stomach tighten.
Yet the part of Walter’s gift that mattered most to me could never be deposited in a bank.
Through Mr. Pierce, I contacted Walter’s son, Michael, who invited me to visit the educational foundation.
When we met, he hugged me before either of us had properly introduced ourselves.
“My dad talked about you for years,” he said.
I laughed awkwardly.
“I knew him for maybe three minutes.”
Michael shook his head.
“You knew him at exactly the right three minutes.”
That sentence stayed with me.
A few months later, I began volunteering with the foundation twice a month, helping review applications from young parents trying to finish school, and whenever one of them apologized for needing assistance, I thought of myself at seventeen, too proud to admit how frightened I had been.
