I was in the middle of gathering my belongings when a man asked that I leave my seat because my granddaughter would not stop sobbing. Tears were running down my cheeks then. After that, a young man offered me his seat in the business class section. The harsh man’s face started to turn white as a result of what transpired next.
Despite the fact that I am 65 years old, the past year has been a cloud of sorrow, restless nights, and unending stress. The passing of my daughter occurred not long after she had given birth to her lovely daughter. Her body finally gave out despite her best efforts during the delivery process.
Within a matter of hours, I changed from being a mother to a daughter who was in good health to being the sole guardian of her newborn child.
Things went from bad to worse. My daughter’s husband, who is also the father of the baby, was unable to deal with it. While he was in the hospital, I witnessed him holding his daughter. She was placed back in the bassinet as his hands were shaking as he stared at her tiny face, said something, and then set her upright.
Next morning, he was not to be seen.
She was not taken home by him, nor did he remain for the funeral. There was a message that he left on a chair in the hospital, stating that he was not cut out for this life and that I would know what to do.
The last time I saw him was at that moment.
Due to the fact that I was the only parent she had, my granddaughter was placed in my arms, and she became my duty.
I gave her the name Hazel.
Immediately following the funeral of my daughter, I burst into tears when uttering her name for the very first time. The name was selected by my daughter when she was seven months old. She affirmed that it was straightforward, endearing, and powerful, just like she had imagined her baby would be.
At this moment, when I rock her to sleep at three in the morning and mutter “Hazel,” it feels as if I am echoing the voice of my daughter.
It’s not easy to bring up Hazel. Babies are more expensive than I had anticipated. Every every dime disappears in a flash.
By taking odd jobs, such as babysitting for neighbors or helping out at the church pantry to get groceries, I am able to stretch my pension budget further. On most days, I am just about making ends meet.
I find myself sitting at my kitchen table on certain evenings, after I have successfully put Hazel to sleep, staring at my expenses and wondering how I will make it through another month.
On the other hand, Hazel begins to awaken, making gentle baby noises and opening her large, inquisitive eyes. Those moments serve as a reminder of the reasons I continue to move forward.
Unfortunately, she did not get to know her mother. Not even a week had passed since her father had abandoned her. She is deserving of one person who will not abandon her.
I hesitated when my oldest friend Lila, who lives in another state, called me from across the nation and urged me to come visit for a week.
“Gwen, you need a break,” she remarked in a commanding tone. “You appear to be exhausted. Come with Hazel. I’ll assist with everything, including night feedings and anything else. You are free to relax.”
It was difficult to find rest. However, Lila was correct. I was completely and utterly worn out.
I managed to save up enough money to purchase a low-cost airline ticket. Although the seats would be crowded, we would be able to make it there.
I was expecting for a peaceful ride when I found myself on a crowded airplane with my diaper bag slung over my shoulder and my daughter Hazel pressed against my chest.
When we finally got comfortable in our cramped economy seats toward the back of the plane, Hazel immediately began to complain. It started out as a whimper, but rapidly escalated into full-blown crying.
Everything was tried by me.
During the time that I was rocking her, I whispered, “Shh, Hazel, it’s okay, Grandma’s got you.”
A bottle that I had made before boarding the plane was handed to her, but she pushed it away with her small fists. I attempted to look for her diaper in the cramped area, but nothing was successful.
As her sobbing became more intense and louder, they reverberated throughout the cabin. When people turned their attention to me, my face burned.
A loud sigh came from the woman in front of me, and she shook her head. Two seats up, a man gave me the look that I was destroying his trip like I was.
The air was thick with the weight of judgment. When I heard each of Hazel’s cries, I felt like shrinking and wanting to vanish.
I brought her closer to me, kissed her on the head, and whispered, “Please, baby, don’t be so anxious. We won’t have any problems.”
However, she continued to cry.
At that moment, the man who was standing next to me lost his cool.
He had been shifting with loud grunts, and it was obvious that he was annoyed. After that, he shifted his attention to me while pressing his fingers to his temples.
He snapped, “Can you make that baby be quiet?” in a volume that was loud enough for rows of people around to hear.
My lips parted, but I was unable to utter a single syllable.
He went on to say, “I paid a good amount of money for this seat.” You think I would enjoy listening to a child scream for the entire flight? Move if you are unable to silence her. You should either hide in the restroom or go stand in the galley. It makes no difference to me. Just get out of here.”
My eyes welled up with tears. Although Hazel was crying, I held her tightly and rocked her.
“I’m trying,” I stutteringly said. “She’s still a little child. I’m doing everything in my power.”
As a response, he retorted, “Your all is not enough.” Your inability to exert control over her should not force us to suffer. Get to your feet. Right now”
My face was ablaze. I chose to stand up, grab the diaper bag, and begin holding Hazel rather than argue with her. My legs were shaking, yet I was unable to remain in his presence.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled in a low voice.
I switched my attention to the aisle, getting ready to make my way to the rear of the room, tears blinding my eyes as I felt ashamed and insignificant.
Finally, I was halted by a voice.
“Ma’am?”
My legs were wobbly as I hesitated. I looked around and noticed a young man, possibly 16 years old, a few seats ahead of me.
In a soft voice, he said, “Do not go to the back.” This is not required of you.
Suddenly, Hazel’s cries turned into whimpers, and then they ceased altogether, as if she understood. The silence was unsettling after an hour of crying had been going on.
Softly, the boy grinned at me.
She is simply exhausted, he explained. She needs to find a more peaceful area to rest. It was his boarding pass that he displayed. It’s my dad and I in the business class section. Please take a seat. It will be more pleasant for both of you.”
I stood there, speechless. I am unable to take your seat, sweetheart. Keep your family by your side. It will become clear to me.”
The man gave a head shake. To be honest, no. Because I want you to have it. My mother and father will comprehend.”
His compassionate eyes silenced my objections.
While I was hugging Hazel close, I nodded. “I am grateful to you. What does this even mean? You have no idea.
As he moved aside, he motioned for me to come forward. Though I was still in astonishment, I strolled by.
When I arrived in business class, I was greeted by two individuals who were the boy’s parents.
My arm was gently caressed by his mother, who smiled warmly. “Don’t be concern. It’s fine with you here. Settle down and have a seat.”
His father gave a slight nod and motioned for a flight attendant to bring blankets and pillows.
The peace was a welcome reprieve from the upheaval that was the economy. I sunk into the big leather seat. As soon as I placed Hazel in my lap, she let out a long sigh and closed her eyes slightly.
That flight was the first time she had ever been able to rest.
I wrapped my palms around her bottle to warm it, and she sipped without any anxiety.
Not out of embarrassment but rather out of relief and thanks, tears began to roll down my cheeks. Kindness from a young boy spotted me when I felt like I was invisible.
“Do you see, dainty?” I hushed Hazel in a whisper. “It is still possible to find nice people. Do not overlook that fact.”
However, the story was not yet over.
During the time that I was rocking Hazel in business class, the youngster returned to his seat and started sitting close to the individual who had yelled at me.
It appeared that the man was happy at first. He smirked and leaned back, and then he uttered in a loud voice, “Finally. That baby who was crying has left. I am now able to calm down.
When he finally caught a glimpse of his new seatmate, he froze.
His hands began to shake, and his smile began to fade.
The young man was the adolescent son of his boss.
This man stutteringly said, “Hey.” I had no idea that you were going to be on this flight.
His head was cocked to the side. “What you stated about the baby and her grandmother was something that I heard. What I witnessed was how you dealt with them.
The man’s face became completely white.
“My parents taught me that how you treat people when you think no one important is watching shows who you are,” the little child added. “It’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.” Everything I needed to know about you was revealed to me by what I observed.
Despite his voice cracking, the man attempted to laugh. Let’s face it, you just don’t get it. During that hour, that infant cried out. It was a difficult experience. Any person would have—”
The young man chimed in, “Anyone who was decent would have helped.” “I have not been rude.”
It was a living hell for the man for the remainder of the flight. It was obvious that he was terrified of what might occur, as he sat rigidly and glanced at the boy.
Once they arrived, the news had already spread. The youngster told his parents everything when he checked on me—how the father yelled, urged me to go, and gloated when I stood up crying.
His dad listened, his expression becoming more and more gloomy with each word.
An argument between the boss and his staff took place at the airport terminal.
Even though I didn’t hear every word, I was able to see the man’s face fall apart as his boss talked in a commanding manner. His shoulders gave off the impression that he wanted to disappear.
After some time had passed, the boy’s mother came across me at the baggage claim area and provided an explanation. The boss stated that anyone who would treat a grandma who was struggling and a baby who was crying in such a cruel manner did not belong in his company. Both their ideals and his leadership were violated by this action.
After that, the man was fired from his work.
I did not rejoice in this. It was just a simple and peaceful feeling of fairness.
Kindness and cruelty collided at 30,000 feet on that particular day. After witnessing someone in need, a young man made the decision to show compassion. A adult man made the decision to be angry and arrogant. Ultimately, it was not my weeping granddaughter who was responsible for ruining his flight; rather, it was his own acts that caused him to lose his possibilities.
I was transformed by that flight.
I was an elderly woman who was barely making ends meet while helping to raise a child who had suffered a great deal of loss.
It was so humiliating that it almost broke me. However, the generosity of a young kid and the resilience of his parents demonstrated to me that there are some individuals who are able to stand up when it matters.
It’s possible that Hazel won’t recall that day. But I will always carry it with me.
One act of brutality made me feel smaller than ever. My self-worth was brought to my attention and I was lifted up by a single loving act.
