She Brought A Pastry To Her Son’s Grave Only To Find A Note Saying ‘Thank You’

Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.

She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.

Baking had always been her way of expressing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.

When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding the perfect amount of cinnamon—just as she had done so many times before.

Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.

The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.

Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“This one’s all for you.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as he chewed.

“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.

She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.

As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.