Chapter 1: The Dream Trip
My terminally ill grandson was given a dream trip to see his favorite football team — at the stadium, a staff member walked over to us and said, “Your grandson wasn’t chosen by chance.
There’s something special about this trip.”
My grandson, Ethan, had just turned one when he lost both of his parents in a car accident.
I was 62 when I became more than Ethan’s grandfather — I became his parent too.
I held one job, then two, to make sure Ethan had everything he needed.
I learned how to prepare his school lunches, help him with homework, and pretend I understood teenage slang.
By the time Ethan was 12, he was already playing for his school’s football team.
I never missed a single game.
You should have seen how happy he was every time he got to play football.
But then something awful happened.
Ethan was diagnosed with terminal c@ncer.
We fought for his life in every way we could.
I took on extra shifts again, spent all my savings, and sold some of the few valuable things I owned.
I did everything I possibly could for my grandson.
God, he was only 15.
I wanted to see him grow up.
My heart was breaking.
Over the last few months, Ethan had spent nearly all of his time in the hospital.
There was no football anymore.
No school.
There was only one goal — getting through each day and hoping for more time.
I was sitting beside his hospital bed one day when a social worker entered the room.
She was a kind woman, and she asked Ethan if there was anything he truly wanted to do.
He didn’t hesitate for even a second.
“See my favorite NFL team play.
Just once.
In a big stadium.”
Truthfully, I didn’t have any money left.
Everything was going toward Ethan’s treatment.
There was no way I could pay for a trip like that.
The woman took my phone number and told me she’d see if there was anything she could do.
A few weeks later, she called me and said a group of donors connected to the hospital had anonymously covered a trip for Ethan and me.
There were two stadium tickets, a hotel room, and transportation.
I was speechless.
For days, Ethan spoke about nothing but that game and how excited he was.
At the stadium, he wore his old football jersey under his jacket and looked happier than I’d seen him in months.
About halfway through the game, there was a timeout.
Ethan and I were about to get up and go buy some snacks when a stadium employee came over to our row.
He asked:
“Mr.
Carter?”
I nodded.
He looked at Ethan and then said:
“Sir, there’s something you need to know about this trip.
Your grandson wasn’t chosen by accident.
These tickets didn’t come from a hospital fund.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
The man took a breath and said:
“Someone specifically asked us to bring your grandson here.
There’s someone waiting for you.”
My stomach tightened.
Before I could ask another question, he pointed toward the aisle.
An elderly man was standing there.
His hands were trembling as he stared at Ethan.
He walked toward us.
And when I asked who he was and why he’d wanted to see Ethan, I nearly fainted.
For a moment, I honestly thought someone was going to have to call an ambulance because I could barely breathe.
Who was the elderly man, and why had he chosen Ethan?
Comment “NEXT” for Part 2.
