Moms and dads always make surprising deeds every day without noticing by anybody. They help and take care of us and support us in a way that can even feel almost fascinating. In this presentation, we’ll gather real stories in which they went further. Beautiful to some, deeply stunning to others, but all of them simply tell how strong and caring our parents can be.
Story 1:
When we were growing up, we were not rich. At one winter, I desired this red bike so much. It appeared from under the tree as if by magic.
Coming years, I learned my dad sold his guitar to purchase it. He never told me. I did not hear about it until I asked where it went. He shrugged, “The bike was louder anyway”.
That bike took me for years. However, that guitar could not leave my mind. Neither did the quiet man who exchanged it for my smile.
Story 2:
The very night before prom, my zipper broke on my dress. Full meltdown mode. Crying on the floor. My mom appeared with a light source (flashlight) and a sewing kit. She didn’t even flinch. She took off her glasses, tied her hair back, and was busy doing her work.
After 2 hours the dress looked much better than when I bought it. She even did a secret pocket “just in case”. I went to prom dressed like a royal. Noone would know the designer was just my mom in pajamas. She simply winked and told him, “Go and have fun”.
Story 3:
I said to my mom that I wanted to give running a try. She bought me shoes, and she used to wake me up at 6 in the morning. Ran with me despite hating it. Paced me, encouraged me on, slowed when I did. She never missed a morning.
I made the track team. She stopped the following day. Said, “That’s all I wanted to do is get you started.” As it happens, she had been icing her knees each night. She never mentioned it to me until several years later.
Story 4:
I had my first interview of my life and I was scared stiff. My mom forced me to practice replies in the kitchen. She questioned me more than any employer would ever do. Evens made me stand as I answered. She would just put glasses on just to appear “official”.
On the day of the interview I was cool and prepared. Nailed every question. Got the job. Told her, and she simply said, “I told you they’d be easier than me”. She even wrote me a good luck note which I found in my pocket. I still have it…
Story 5:
Story 6:
I failed my math test. I was devastated. I brought it home expecting the lecture.
Instead, my mom took out her old report cards. She produced her own math grades – worse than mine. Then, she told me how she managed to be an accountant no matter what. She assisted me with the making of flashcards and the game plan.
A year down the line I was at top of class. She encased my better test score. Place it next to the picture of 10-year-old her. “We both managed to work it out,” she said.
Story 7:
Story 8:
Story 9:
My mom hated my wife. She cried on my wedding day. Son, she is not your one!
I said, “There will come a day when you will love her as well!”. She nodded.
2 years later, mom died. I went to her empty house. I stood aghast when I looked under her bed. I had tens of my wife legal documents dating back years.
Upon closer inspection I saw that they were all debt records – school tuition, personal loans, credit cards – everything. They were all bribed. By my mother. The total came to $48,000.
That’s when I understood: Mom had found out about my wife’s debts, and she knew that marrying her meant I would be taking her debts upon myself, and I had to drop out of school too. It took her retirement money and life savings to get rid of it all – in silence.
She had been hiding my wife’s debts from me in order to protect me and that is why she had done her best to stop me from marrying her. When I asked my wife, she told me my mother had spoken to her, and she asked her to keep it a secret.
Story 10:
Story 11:
My dad gifts me a weird, cheap gift on every birthday. A rock, a potato, a spoon with my name scratched on. Every one comes with a story. One is like how the rock originated from our camping trip. Or the spoon from my first meal alone as a kid.
By 25, I have a box of these strange things. Each heralds a memory more priceless in value than the greatest necessity to be brought by an expensive gift. Dad says, “Big things fade. Stories don’t.” I believe him now. That box is priceless.
Story 12:
