I treasured my mother’s ashes for three years after her death. Her urn was that one sacred thing I asked my fiancée to never touch. But in her rush to make our home spotless, my fiancée vacuumed up the ashes, threw them out with the trash, and hid the truth from me.
Does the death of a loved one mean they’re gone from us forever? My mother Rosemary was my sun, moon, stars, and everything in between. After her death, I still felt her presence through the urn that held her ashes. Until the day my fiancée decided to “clean” our apartment, and my world shattered all over again.
An older lady’s framed photo, an urn, and glowing candles on a table | Source: Midjourney
The evening air was thick with memories as I stood in our living room, touching the silver frame that held Mom’s favorite photo.
She wore her favorite white dress and smiled at the camera, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
It had been five days since the accident that killed Mom, but some days, the pain felt as fresh as the morning I got the call from the hospital.
A man holding an older woman’s framed photo | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Christian,” my sister Florence called from the couch. She had moved in after Mom passed, and her presence helped fill the echoing emptiness of my heart.
“Remember how Mom would always say grace before dinner, even if we were just having cereal?”
I smiled, running my finger along the frame. “Yeah, and remember how she’d catch us sneaking cookies before dinner? She’d try to look stern but end up laughing instead.”
A sad woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“God, the way she’d put her hands on her hips,” Florence said, wiping her eyes. “Like she was trying so hard to be mad at us.”
“‘Lord give me strength!’” we said in unison, mimicking Mom’s exasperated tone, and for a moment, it felt like she was there with us.
The front door opened, and my girlfriend Kiara walked in, her footsteps hesitant. She’d been like that since Mom died, always hovering at the edges of our grief, never quite knowing how to step in.
A woman in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
“I picked up dinner,” she said, holding up a takeout bag. “Chinese. From that place you like, Christian.”
“Thanks,” I replied coldly. Something had changed between us since Mom’s death. It was like a wall had grown where there used to be an open door.
Two weeks after the funeral, I came home early from work to find Kiara packing a suitcase. The sight stopped me cold in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I asked, though the answer was written in every careful fold of clothing she placed in the bag.
A woman packing her clothes | Source: Pexels
She didn’t look up. “I need some time, Christian. This… all of this… it’s too much.”
“Too much? My mother died, Kiara. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know how to help you!” She finally met my eyes, her own filled with tears. “You cry every night. You spend hours staring at her pictures. You and Florence keep talking about memories I wasn’t part of, and I feel like an outsider in my own home.”
“So your solution is to leave? When I need you most?”
A sad man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Please try to understand—”
“Understand what? That my girlfriend of four years can’t handle a few weeks of grief? That you’d rather run away than support me?”
“That’s not fair!” Kiara’s hands trembled as she folded another shirt. “I’m trying my best! But it looks like you’ll take forever to move on, Chris.”
“Your best?” I grabbed the shirt from her hands. “Your best is packing your bags while I’m at work? Not even having the decency to tell me to my face that you care more about yourself than me… and my grief?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I was going to call you—”
“Oh, that makes it so much better!” I threw the shirt across the room. “What happened to ‘I’ll always be there for you’? What happened to ‘we’re in this together’?”
“I’m not equipped for this, Christian. I can’t be what you need right now.”
“I never asked you to be anything but present, Kiara. Just to sit with me, to hold my hand, to let me know I’m not alone. But I guess that’s too much to ask, isn’t it?”
A distressed man with a woman | Source: Pexels
She picked up her suitcase, her shoulders shaking. “I’m staying with my friend Shannon for a while. I’ll text you. I just… I need space to figure this out.”
“Figure what out? How to be a decent human being? Go ahead, run away. It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Kiara left without saying anything.
Florence moved in the next day, bringing with her the comfort of shared grief and understanding. We spent evenings looking through old photo albums, crying together, and laughing at memories of Mom’s terrible dancing and amazing cooking.
A man watching a woman leave with her bag | Source: Pexels
“She would have hated this,” Florence said one night, gesturing at the takeout containers littering our coffee table. “Remember how she used to say fast food was ‘the devil’s cooking’?”
“But she’d still take us to McDonald’s after doctor appointments,” I added, smiling at the memory. “Said it was ‘medicinal French fries.’”
“Chris, did Kiara call?”
“Nope! Just texted. You know, I stayed with her through her father’s illness, her bad days, her everything. And yet here I am, alone in my own grief. I needed her, but maybe she just didn’t love me enough.”
An upset an sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
The only way Kiara contacted me was through texts like, “Hope you’re okay.”
I typed and deleted, “I needed you, Kiara.” But sent, “I’m managing. Thanks.”
A month after Kiara left, she asked to meet at our usual coffee shop. She sat across from me, looking smaller somehow, her hands wrapped around an untouched latte.
“Shannon’s boyfriend confronted me yesterday,” she hesitantly began. “Called me selfish and cold-hearted. Said I abandoned you when you needed me most.”
A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Unsplash
I stayed silent, watching her struggle with the words.
“He was right,” Kiara continued. “I’ve started therapy, Christian. I want to be better. I want to learn how to be there for you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
“How do I know you won’t leave again?” I asked, the fear raw in my voice.
“Because I love you,” she replied, reaching across the table. “And I’m learning that love means staying, even when it hurts. Even when you don’t know what to say or do. I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
A woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Unsplash
Life settled into a new pattern after that. Kiara moved back in, and three years later, we started planning our wedding.
Mom’s urn remained on its special table in the corner, surrounded by her photos and her plastic rosary — the one she’d carried everywhere, even to the grocery store.
“We should divide the ashes,” I suggested to Florence one evening. “You could have half.”
She shook her head, touching the urn gently. “No, let’s keep them together. It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
An urn on a shelf | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about Mom and how much I’d miss her at my wedding. I’d already decided: the urn with her ashes would have a special spot in the front row of the church. It would make me feel like Mom was there, blessing me as I took this important step in my life.
The wedding planning consumed our days. And Kiara seemed different. She was more present and understanding.
She held me when the grief hit unexpectedly, sat through stories about Mom without fidgeting, and even asked questions about her sometimes.
Grayscale shot of bridal accessories | Source: Pexels
Then, the call from Florence came on a Tuesday evening, just three days before my wedding. “Hey, Chris? I was wondering if I could have Mom’s rosary. The plastic one? I found a photo of her holding it, and—”
“Of course,” I said, moving toward the urn. “Let me just—”
The words died in my throat as I opened it. Inside, where Mom’s ashes should have been, sat a Ziploc bag filled with… SAND? The rosary lay beside it, exactly where I’d left it three years ago.
The front door opened, and Kiara walked in carrying shopping bags. One look at my face, and hers drained of color.
“What did you do to Mom’s ashes?” I asked.
A man pointing a finger | Source: Pexels
She set the bags down slowly, her hands trembling. “Honey, it’s not what you think. I didn’t do it intentionally—”
“What did you do, Kiara?”
A long silence followed. Then she confessed, “I was cleaning while you were at work a few months ago. The apartment needed a deep clean, and—”
“And what?”
“I picked up the urn to clean the table and accidentally dropped it. It shattered. I quickly assembled the ashes into a bag. But the bag tore. The ashes spilled onto the carpet. I… I panicked. I vacuumed them up and threw the ashes into the trash outside.”
My knees buckled. “You vacuumed my mother’s ashes and threw them in the trash?”
A woman using a vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know what to do. I got some sand from the park nearby. Found a replica of the same urn in the antique shop downtown. I filled it up with the sand. I… I thought you’d never open it again.”
“Never open it? You thought I’d never want to see my mother’s ashes again?”
“I was trying to clean the house. It was just an accident.”
“Clean?” I slammed my hand against the wall. “Those weren’t dust bunnies under the couch, Kiara! That was my mother! The only physical piece of her I had left!”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Christian!” she sobbed. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Clearly!” I picked up the urn, cradling it to my chest. “You weren’t thinking when you decided to ‘clean’ around the one thing I specifically asked you never to touch. You weren’t thinking when you vacuumed up my mother’s remains like they were dirt. And you certainly weren’t thinking when you replaced them with sand and lied to my face for months!”
“Please, Christian, we can fix this—”
“Fix this? How exactly do you propose we fix this, Kiara? Should we go dumpster diving? Should we sift through garbage bags looking for my mother’s ashes?”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll do anything—”
“Did you even try, Kiara? Did you even attempt to salvage anything? Or did you just panic and run to the park for sand, like you always run away when things get hard?”
Her silence filled the room like poison.
“That’s what I thought.” I started gathering Mom’s photos from the table before dumping the sand from the urn. “You know what the worst part is? I actually believed you’d changed. I thought all that therapy and all those promises meant something. But you’re still the same person who left me when my mother died. You’re still running from the hard stuff.”
Close-up shot of an angry man yelling at a woman | Source: Pexels
“Our wedding’s in three days. Please… I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Where are you going, Christian?”
“Away from you!” I grabbed my keys and things. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Before stepping out, I looked back, hoping stupidly for a sign of regret. Anything to show she understood what she’d done.
But Kiara just stared at the floor, her face unreadable, and already distant. My chest tightened, and the last bit of hope drained out of me. Without another word, I turned and left, the empty urn heavy in my hands.
A man walking away with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
The hotel room I checked in felt sterile and cold. I sat on the edge of the bed, Mom’s photos spread around me. My phone buzzed continuously with messages from Kiara, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them.
How would I tell Florence? How could I explain that the last piece of our mother was likely buried in a landfill or blown away like dust because my fiancée treated her remains like dirt?
As dawn broke, I stared at the urn one last time, realizing I was left with only emptiness and betrayal.
A distressed man | Source: Pexels
Things would never be the same, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive my fiancée. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I never could. But deep down, in a corner of my heart, I hoped my mother would forgive me.
I took the rosary, feeling the familiar smooth plastic under my fingers.
“The night before your accident, you made Florence and me promise to keep it safe, Mom. Said it would help us find our way when we felt lost,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Maybe that’s why you wanted us to have it. Because you knew that someday, we’d need something more than your ashes to hold onto.”
A man holding a rosary | Source: Pixabay
I clutched the rosary tighter, remembering Mom’s words, “Love isn’t in the things we keep, dear. It’s in the memories we make and the forgiveness we offer.”
I don’t know if I can forgive Kiara. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mom’s ashes being sucked away into nothing. How do you forgive something like that?
I stepped out onto the seashore nearby. The city lights blurred through my tears as I clutched the empty urn and rosary to my chest. A gentle breeze stirred, reminding me of how Mom used to say the wind carried whispers from heaven.
An emotional man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, looking up at the sky. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect your ashes. I had one job — to keep you safe. But I failed. But I want you to know… wherever you are… that you’re still here with me. In every breath I take, in every memory I hold, and in every prayer these beads have witnessed. I love you, Mom. I’ll love you until my last breath and beyond that. Please forgive me.”
The wind seemed to wrap around me like one of her warm embraces, and for a moment, I could almost hear her whisper, “There’s nothing to forgive, dear. Nothing at all. Love you too.”
Silhouette of a man standing on the seashore | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
New Father Kicks Wife With Newborn Twins onto the Streets, Years Later He Begs Her for Help – Story of the Day
A minted father who is unwilling to spend money to raise his newborn twins asks his wife to give up one baby for adoption. He kicks her out with the babies when she refuses and knocks on her door for help five years later.
It was a cold, rainy night, and Angie cradled her newborn babies at the bus stop. “Where will we go? Jesus, please help us. Shelter us as we wait out this rough night,” she cried, wiping warm tear droplets off her babies’ faces. Angie had nowhere to go, and her parents had died long back.
Suddenly, she sensed something creeping behind her and was terrified. Angie mustered the courage to protect her babies from whatever it was. “It’s a dog!” she sighed.
Angie never imagined her life would turn topsy-turvy overnight. She never thought her husband Jake, who she trusted and loved throughout their marriage, would kick her out with their babies just a week after their birth…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
“How I wish my mom were with me today…Sorry, mama, I should’ve listened to you and not rushed with my marriage with Jake,” sobbed Angie, thinking about her late mom.
“You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear.”
Angie met Jake after graduation five years ago. He was a young, handsome man, and she thought he was the one. They fell for each other in what would turn into a fairytale love story, but with one exception—there was no ‘happily ever after’ in Angie’s case.
Problems sparked in the fourth year of their marriage when she told Jake she was pregnant.
“But darling, you know I’ve just started my business. We have postponed baby planning all these years, and I am not ready to be a father yet,” Jake was upset when Angie showed him the two pink lines on her pregnancy test kit.
Jake’s reluctance to be a father showed he was unprepared for responsibilities. Poor Angie was torn between his disapproval of having children and her desire to have as many as possible. But was Jake prepared to know Angie was pregnant with twins?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I am okay with having a baby…you get it? I mean, one baby is enough,” said Jake as Angie walked into the ward for scanning. “I pray that you don’t come out and tell me we are having twins,” he joked, his mouth curved into an ironic smile. Moments later, fate joked back at him.
Angie came out, distressed and worried. She was pale while she was supposed to be blushing and smiling.
“What is it?” he asked her, impatient for her reply. “What did the doctor say?”
Angie swallowed her fear and spoke out, partly guessing Jake’s reaction. “Our babies are fine,” she said.
“Alright…wait, what…babies?” he exclaimed.
The scan Angie took minutes ago gave her a glimpse at two tiny lives growing inside her. She was pregnant with twins, and Jake was not happy about that.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jake stormed to his car as Angie read his mind and pictured his frustrations. She was nervous and thought he had joked about having only one baby. But his reactions proved otherwise.
Jake grew distant from Angie day by day and focused only on making more money. She knew he was upset about having twins and assumed he would cool down with time. But it only worsened during her third trimester.
Angie was in the hospital, waiting for Jake to see their newborn twin baby girls. But he never showed up. He sent his maid and driver three days later to bring Angie and their babies home.
Jake did not want to get involved with his babies. He didn’t even welcome them home or hold them. He was unhappy and unprepared to be their father.
Angie returned home with her newborns that evening, knowing little about Jake’s condition. “We keep only one child and give the other up for adoption. If you are okay with it, we are a family. If not, you can leave the house with them,” he told Angie.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At first, Angie thought Jake was kidding. He dragged her suitcase to the living room and placed it in front of her, indicating he was serious.
“I’m not ready to raise two children and burn a hole in my pocket. My business is fetching a lot of profits, and I need to focus on making more money…I don’t want to waste my time and wealth on raising two babies when I can easily raise just one,” he explained.
Angie was devastated. “They are our babies, Jake. How could you ask a mother to give up her baby? Are you out of your mind? Both my babies are our symbol of love,” she cried. But Jake was stubborn.
“My business has just started to flourish, and I don’t have the time to focus on family. I don’t want to waste my hard-earned money on two babies. You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear,” he said, despite knowing Angie had nowhere to go.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The poor mother’s choice was obvious. She took her suitcase and left the house with the babies. Jake’s greed for his newfound riches blinded his devotion to family. He failed as a husband and a father. But it didn’t matter to him.
Angie snapped to her present and found herself still deserted at the bus stop, cradling her babies. “Where will I go? Please help me, Jesus,” she cried and was disrupted by an intense beam of light rays.
“Hello there, are you alright? It’s raining heavily. Would you like a ride, my dear?” an older woman called out to her from a taxi. Angie looked up and saw a nun. She wrapped her babies in her jacket and approached the car.
“Oh my, how adorable your babies are!” exclaimed the nun. “Get in. I’ll drop you. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know, Sister,” said Angie. “My path is dark, and I am lost. I don’t know which way to go. My babies and I were abandoned by someone dear to us.”
The nun understood Angie’s misery and immediately took her to the convent.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Angie and her daughters, Sophie and Marley, found a safe shelter to wait out the rough days of their lives. Angie taught in the school administered by the church. She also worked part-time in a restaurant, and two years later, she saved a good chunk of money to start her café.
Gradually, Angie was able to give her daughters a better life, though it could’ve been much better had their father been involved. Moreover, Angie did not regret her decision not wanting to divorce Jake. Deep in her heart, she hoped he would realize his mistake and come for them someday.
Five years passed, and Angie now had her own house. It was quite small yet comfortable. She spent the best years watching Sophia and Marley grow up.
There were times when Angie used to struggle without enough profits in business, but her faith and determination motivated her. She launched two more coffee shops in town, and gradually, her fortune grew. But in the other part of town, Jake’s business tanked.
He was drowned in debt, and everybody he sought financial help from refused to support him at the last minute. Jake knew how rich Angie was now and thought only she could help him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
“Hey, how are you?” Angie answered the door one day when she least expected to see Jake at the doorstep. “Come in!”
Jake vaguely smiled and immediately apologized to Angie. “Darling, I’m so sorry for abandoning you. My greed to earn more money cost me big. I am bankrupt, and it’s the best punishment I deserve for kicking you out with our babies. Please forgive me, and please help me.”
Angie now understood why Jake had come. She had learned about his loss in business but never thought he would visit her and apologize, let alone ask for help.
Jake saw a photo of Angie with their daughters and cried. “I’m sorry, sweethearts. Please forgive your daddy,” he said. Angie’s heart melted, and though she knew Jake had come crawling for help, she was willing to do it because she still loved him.
“But darling, I will not be able to repay such a huge amount of money. I will need time. I was such a cruel husband and a heartless father. Are you sure you want to help me?” he sobbed when Angie gave him a check worth the money he wanted.
“The night you kicked me out, I learned what greed is and how it can ruin relationships. And today, I learned what forgiveness is. What are we going to achieve by holding onto our past grudges? Nothing! Everyone makes mistakes, but as humans, we must learn to forgive one another,” said Angie.
Jake realized his mistake and promised to take Angie and their kids back once he sorted his business issues. He wanted to be a good father to his children and compensate for the heartbreak Angie endured all these years.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- Do not walk past the needy. When the nun saw Angie and her newborn babies stranded at the bus stop on a rainy night, she offered them a ride. She took them to the convent and offered shelter after learning of the mother’s misery.
- One of the best attributes of humans is our ability to forgive. Despite being wronged by Jake, Angie forgave him and helped him financially when he came to her and apologized.
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