Edward Morrison was only 8 years old when his whole world came to a screeching halt because of terrible news. The boy was sitting at the kitchen table in the small apartment where he lived with his mother. As he did every day, he was doing his homework and waiting for the half hour he would spend with her before she left again.
His mother left for work at 5:00 a.m. every morning and returned home around 5:00 p.m. For 30 minutes, she would listen to Edward’s stories about his day. They would eat something together, and then she would rush off to get to her second job on time. The boy knew his mother was doing everything in her power to make ends meet, and he knew what that cost her. He could see it in her exhausted eyes, in her slumped shoulders, even in her face when she tried to smile.
At 5:55, Edward got up from the kitchen table to open the apartment door for her. He was just in time to be able to watch her walk up the stairs to the front door. She looked especially tired today, and by her frown, he knew she was carrying something else in her heart, something that disturbed her greatly.
They embraced and held hands as they entered the apartment. She sat with him at the kitchen table for a while in silence. He realized she was working up the courage to tell him something and left her alone, silent. She would tell him whatever she had to tell him when she was ready. Edward crossed the small round table and rested his 8-year-old hand on hers.
Allison Morrison looked at her son. She didn’t know how to tell him. It would shatter what little peace they had and turn his whole young life upside down, but she had no choice. Her son had to know. After all, Edward was all she had, and she was all he had. They were two against the whole world, a little family of two who could endure anything because of the love they felt.
“Edward, honey, I have something to tell you,” she began, “but I need you to be brave. It’s not easy for mom to tell you this either.”
Allison could already see the worry and fear on her son’s face. It broke her heart to see him like this. She didn’t want to hurt him. He was such a sweet boy, so good, and he had suffered so much. Her son didn’t deserve more misfortune, not after his father’s death, but fate was something she could not control. No one can, no matter how hard we try. And it was true that her son had already suffered more than any other child should at his age.
Edward had grown up very quickly since his father died of lung cancer. Despite being so small, he almost instinctively began to take on chores around the apartment to help his mother in any way he could while she worked. He did the dishes and cleaned the living room, and nothing was ever out of place in his bedroom. If she allowed him to, he also did the laundry, although he sometimes made mistakes.
Of course, he was 8 years old. At that age, a child is playing in the park, not calculating the amount of soap needed for colored clothes. It’s natural that he made mistakes, but that never mattered to her. It was impossible to reproach him for anything. Even so, she often forbade him to continue doing chores and told him that he should take care of his homework or play with his toys, doing childish things and not adult things. Allison was not willing to take any more responsibility on his little shoulders. He seemed to already know and understand too much for his young age. He didn’t deserve any more worries.
But that was precisely what she was about to do—turn his world upside down again and fill his heart with worry. She was going to hurt him again, and it was killing her inside, but she could no longer put off telling him what was going on. The time had come to face it, and they would do it together. Allison took a deep breath, took her son by both hands, and told him.
A few weeks earlier, she had gone to the doctor because of a lump she had found under her breast. The first time for tests and the second time, which was today, to get the results. Unfortunately, the results were not good. She had stage three breast cancer, meaning that the cancer had already started to spread and was very difficult to cure. The doctor explained the various treatment options, but his prognosis was not good. At best, he had told her that she had six months to live.
Mrs. Morrison tried to use the lightest possible words and not burden her son any more than necessary, but she didn’t think downplaying it was going to help him in the long run. When the hard truth was out, there was a way to talk about cancer without it involving suffering. After telling him everything, she kept silent and watched Edward closely.
She saw his young face twitch as the news sank in, his eyes watering and his tears wiping away with the back of his hand. She squeezed his hand. She promised him that she was going to fight the disease with all her might, but she also told him that it was going to cost money. The treatments were expensive, as was the medication. She would need because of the disease, she would no longer be able to work as many hours and hold down her two jobs, which meant they would have to make do with less money, even less than what little they already had and were barely surviving on.
By then, Allison was crying too. However, in front of her eyes, her 8-year-old son’s behavior changed completely. He didn’t start crying and complaining about how bad things were going for them. He did the opposite. He worried about his mother and tried to comfort her as much as he could. For a moment, he became an adult when he put on his brave face and told her that everything would be fine and they would get through it together. Instantly, Edward looked 10 years older. He was showing her that he had her back and that he would do absolutely whatever it took to make sure she got better and beat the cancer.
“We’ll get through this, Mommy. We always do. I’ll never leave you alone,” he told her, hugging her tightly.
But in her heart, Allison knew that this time it wasn’t going to get better and that if she did, it would be a miracle. She squeezed his hands again and continued to explain everything they would have to do in the next few weeks. Chemotherapy would be the hardest process they would ever have to face, but they would do it together, and that comforted her and made her feel brave.
Still, despite the big problem at hand and the knowledge that she probably only had a few months left to live with her beloved son, Allison Morrison was still preoccupied with something else, something much less important, but something that was of great value to her and her son—celebrating Edward’s ninth birthday together. It would be his first birthday since his father’s death, and she wanted it to be a very special day.
“Since I can’t work so much anymore, we’re not going to have the fun birthday party we had planned, honey,” she said to her son in a trembling voice.
For six months, Allison had saved a little money each week with one goal in mind: to celebrate the most amazing birthday Edward had ever experienced. They were going to do everything they loved best—go to the amusement park, eat cotton candy, and then go to the movies for colorful popcorn. It was all mother and son needed to be happy. But they probably wouldn’t be able to do it that year. Or could they? Edward gave a faint smile and reassured his mother.
“It doesn’t matter, Mom,” he said. “We’ll still do great. We’ll be together, and all the things we wanted to do for this year can wait until next year when you’re all better. There will be more birthdays, don’t worry.”
But Allison felt she wouldn’t have that much time and probably wouldn’t get to see her son celebrate his 10th birthday. But she decided to keep quiet and not keep tormenting her son with negative thoughts.
That night, after wishing his mother goodnight, little Edward’s mind was a roller coaster. There was a part of him that was terribly sad. That part knew his mother was going to die. It scared him and made him want to cry inconsolably. But there was also another part of him that was rising strong within him. It was the part that could do what his mom called the “Edward plans.” The boy pushed the sadness and fear to the back of his mind and focused on those plans.
The next day at school, he couldn’t concentrate either. The teachers in the first three classes of the day admonished him for daydreaming, and they were right. He was daydreaming, but he wasn’t going to tell them why or what about, at least for the time being. By lunchtime, Edward had already come up with an elaborate plan, and by the time he made his way to the bus stop after class, the plan had been solidified.
The bus stopped a block away from the apartment, and the boy ran as soon as he got off the bus without saying goodbye to anyone. There was a book he needed right now. It was on the bookshelf in his bedroom. It was the last piece of the puzzle. As soon as he got home, Edward went to his room and looked on the bookshelf. “Practical Steps for Young Entrepreneurs”—that was the book he was looking for. It was an old book of his father’s that he had flipped through before, but now he needed to reread a particular chapter. He spent the rest of the day rereading that chapter.
The next morning, he woke up before his mother and prepared breakfast for her. He opened the
door to his mother’s room with his foot and brought her the tray overflowing with delicious food.
“My precious boy,” she said when she woke up. “You really are my angel.”
As she pecked at her food, he asked her the big question. “Mommy, could I go to the mall in town after school?”
“What do you want to do there?” his mother asked with a frown.
“It’s a job for school. I have to interview a bunch of people, you know, ask them questions and write down their answers,” he said.
He hated lying to his mother, but that part was crucial for his plan to work. His mother frowned and hesitated, but in the end, agreed to let him go for an hour.
That day, Edward was about to be punished for not paying attention in class during the first period that morning. That would be a disaster, so he got his act together and tried to behave well in the rest of the classes. Then, when recess came, he settled into a secluded corner of the cafeteria and began to write and put the second part of his plan into action. A few minutes later and after many crossings out, rewrites, and corrections, the boy was satisfied with what he had written. In the book he read, it said he would need 50, so he would have to make 50 copies of his note. He hurried down to the administration building to make them.
For the rest of the day at school, he was calm. He had done what he needed to do and had everything ready for his plan. Shortly after 3:00 in the afternoon, Edward Morrison got off the bus and walked into the mall just as he had told his mother he would. The book said 50. He looked around. Yes, he had chosen well. There were more than 50 people there.
He thought back to what his book on young entrepreneurs said, especially the chapter on marketing. It said that once the business plan was developed, you had to do intensive marketing to get it off the ground, and the book said that to start, you had to talk about the idea with at least 50 people. Edward was determined to find those 50 people and give them each a copy of the note he had so painstakingly written. It would only take one person to make it work. Just one. It had to work. He was convinced it would.
It was then, as fate would have it, that that afternoon, just as Edward was running from one side of the mall to the other with his 50 notes in hand, a big-hearted US Marine named Thomas Styles crossed his path. A chance encounter that would change both of their lives forever. Styles had been serving in the Navy for three years and was currently part of the squadron guarding the West Wing of the White House.
At the time, he was off duty and strolling through the mall to clear his head when suddenly a boy approached him and passed him the note. There was something about the boy that he knew even before he opened and read the note. When he finally unfolded and read the note, he swallowed hard to hold back tears. This boy needed help, and that’s what Marines do—help others. Automatically, tearful and shocked, Thomas pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.
“Everyone has to be there,” he said at the end of a short, cryptic conversation. “There are no excuses. We have a mission.”
An hour later, Thomas met his fellow Marines by Connecticut Street. When everyone was settled, Thomas called the meeting to order.
“There’s a boy, just 8 years old,” he began. “His mother is dying. This young man is one of our own. He has the heart of a brave man.”
The Marines leaned in to hear Edward’s plight and the incredible plan for help that Thomas Styles had come up with.
The next day, in the afternoon, Edward was busy trying to do his homework. As he did so, he kept hearing his mother in the bedroom. She was restless, and he could hear that she was uncomfortable and complaining. She was sore from the treatment she had just started, and hearing her complain was very painful for him.
He would do anything to end her pain, even though he knew there was little a child could do against something as terrible as cancer. A few minutes later, he decided to make her some hot tea in hopes of making her feel better. It was her favorite drink and always made her smile. But in the meantime, he was busy making her tea when the phone rang. It was the call he had been waiting for.
“Are you Private Morrison?” asked Styles’s voice on the other end.
Edward was very confused. He didn’t quite understand what was going on. However, he did not hang up and decided to answer.
“It’s Edward, sir,” he replied. “Who do you want to speak to?”
“This is Sergeant Thomas Styles. It seems to me that we met yesterday at the mall, but you were running around and I lost sight of you. That’s why we couldn’t talk,” the voice said. “I want you to know that you became one of us when you asked for our help, and we are going to help you. The United States Navy is at your service, little Edward.”
Then the image from the previous afternoon came into focus in the boy’s mind. He had only given one out of 50 notes to a soldier at the mall the day before, so this had to be him.
“Can we meet?” the Marine asked on the other end.
“Maybe tomorrow after school,” replied the boy.
And indeed, when Edward left school the next afternoon, three smiling Marines in full uniform were waiting for him. As they approached, they greeted him as if he were one of them, which made him feel like the luckiest kid in the universe. Edward returned their greeting very excitedly and then invited them to go with him to a nearby burger joint to avoid the prying eyes of all his classmates and the rest of the people there who were in disbelief at the unusual scene taking place.
“I know just the perfect place to talk about our plans. I’ll lead the way,” said the boy excitedly as he climbed into the official car in which the Marines had arrived.
Later, while everyone was eating a delicious hamburger, the Marines asked him about his mysterious plan. The boy explained it as best he could but added that he needed help from the grown-ups to make it happen. The Marines were thrilled to hear the boy, and with a big smile, Styles said, “Well, Soldier, you’ve come to the right place to make your dream come true. That’s what we’re here for. Listen carefully, here’s our plan.”
The truth is that both Styles and the rest of his companions were completely smitten with the boy. They had never seen such devotion in a child, and that is why they were going to strive to make his dream come true. But Thomas, for his part, was also hatching a plan of his own, something that neither the boy nor his mother expected and that could literally change their lives.
Finally, two weeks later, the big day arrived—Edward’s 9th birthday. That day, the boy acted completely normal. He helped his mother out of bed, ran her a bath, laid out her clothes, and cheered her up when it was obvious that the pain was too intense. Then he helped her into the kitchen and sat her at the table.
“What are you up to, Edward?” his mother asked him with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re up to something, I can see it,” she said, looking at her son suspiciously as he paced back and forth doing homework.
But before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. The big moment he had been waiting weeks for had arrived.
“Sit down, Mom. I’ll be right there,” Edward said calmly.
He flew up and ran to the door. There were nine Marines at the door, all with something in their arms. One had a cotton candy machine, another had several boxes of popcorn of all flavors, others had ice cream of all flavors, and another had a large strawberry and cream cake hidden inside a huge box. It was everything Edward had dreamed of making with his mother on his birthday, and they could do it right there without leaving the house.
“Where do you want them?” asked Private Styles with a big smile.
Edward smiled back and showed them where to put the things and led them to the kitchen.
“Sergeant Thomas Styles, United States Marine Corps, at your service, ma’am,” Thomas said to Mrs. Allison Morrison, who had been stunned to see all those men in uniform enter her kitchen. Understanding what was happening, tears streamed down Allison’s cheeks. She reached out and took her son in her arms.
“You did this? Oh, honey, thank you, thank you,” she said.
But the surprises weren’t over yet for Edward and his mother. There was still one last gift, the most important one. While they were all in the kitchen, there was another knock at the door.
“Don’t move, I’ll get it. I know who it is,” said Thomas.
He returned a few moments later with a distinguished-looking older man.
“Mrs. Morrison, this is my father,” he said proudly. “Dr. Quinton Styles. He’s an oncologist and has come to help you.”
What Thomas didn’t say was that Dr. Quinton Styles was one of the best oncologists in the country and was considered by many to be a miracle worker. Patients with the worst imaginable prognoses came to see him, and somehow he managed to cure them. Thomas Styles knelt on one side of Allison and Dr. Styles on the other.
“My father has agreed to treat you for free. He’s going to help you get well, Mrs. Morrison. You don’t have to worry about anything else. This is our birthday present to your brave and generous son,” Styles told her, smiling and holding her
hand warmly.
A year later, Edward and his mother were sitting in their kitchen again, but this time there was no trace of grief or sadness. It was Edward’s 10th birthday, and just as he had anticipated, his mother was by his side to celebrate. On the corkboard hung birthday greeting cards from Thomas and Peter Styles, the two most important people in the Morrison’s lives for the past year. Their generosity had given them both a new lease on life. They would always be indebted to those two brave men who did not hesitate to help them when they needed it most, asking for nothing in return.
