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Then his wife got sick.
At first, it was appointments. Then tests. Then hospital stays that stretched from days into weeks. The diagnosis came with words no family is ever ready to hear and treatments that came with price tags that drained savings faster than Sean could earn them. He sold the car. Then the furniture. Then, finally, the apartment.
His wife passed away quietly one night, leaving behind four children who still expected breakfast in the morning and a father who no longer knew where they would sleep.
Grief doesn’t pause bills.
With no home and no job to return to, Sean and his children ended up in a tent community on the edge of the city. He picked up part-time work where he could while the kids were at school, but it was never enough. Every day became a calculation: food or fuel, shoes or medicine, now or later.
Still, he made one rule for himself. His children would never see bitterness replace kindness.
That belief was tested one afternoon at a gas station.
Sean had taken the kids there to buy the cheapest lunch he could manage: hot dogs and water. He counted his money twice before walking inside. Two dollars was all he had left in his pocket after setting aside just enough for the kids’ food.
As he approached the counter, he noticed an elderly man standing off to the side. The man looked shaken, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to explain something to the cashier. Sean overheard enough to understand the problem. The man needed water to take his medication. He had left his wallet at home.
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