The busy streets of New York City carried on as usual, unaware of tragidy unfolding in a hospital room on July 3rd, 1989. The sun shining through the windows, casting soft, golden streaks across the bed where Elizabeth Hawthorne lay, her breaths shallow and difficult.
The room was quiet, except for the soft cries that came from the newborn in the nurse's arms. Liam Hawthorne had entered the world, greeted by a mother who had already given everything she could. Elizabeth smiling weakly as the nurse placed the baby in her arms, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes. She had dreamed of this moment, but she was aware of how fragile her own condition was.
She had faced the pregnancy alone. Liam's father, he had disappeared the minute responsibility knocked at his door. Elizabeth hadn't heard from him ever since, and by now, she had stopped hoping. Her strength had gone into preparing for Liam, knowing she would face this journey with her father and no one else.
As she cradled her son, Elizabeth felt her energy leaving her body and her body weakening with every second. Her heart filled with love for her baby but her body was just too weak to keep up with her will. She looked at her father, Harold Bennett, standing quietly beside the bed. His face had aged significantly and his eyes were filled with sorrow.
"Take care of him, Dad," she whispered, her voice trembeling.
Harold nodded, his heart was heavy. He had already prepared himself for this moment but in the end how could he possibly be prepared for this. "I will, Elizabeth. I'll raise him as best as I can"
Elizabeth managed a faint smile, before her eyes closed as exhaustion overtook her. Within hours, she was gone, leaving behind an elderly man and a newborn baby.
Harold Bennett had never expected to be a parent again, leave alone being a single parent. The loss of his daughter had aged him significantly overnight, but his responsibility gave him a new purpose. He moved into a small apartment Elizabeth had rented in New York, planning to make it his home until his death.
My father, Harold never spoke of him. The only family Liam needed was here, now, Harold, who would dedicate his remaining years to raising him.
The beginning was difficult, needing Harold to adjust to caring for an infant. The baby became the center of his life, reminding Harold of the hope that could still exist amidst grief.
New York was loud and chaotic outside the walls of their home, but inside, the apartment became a sanctuary of peace and quiet for both Liam and Harold. Harold being a retired professor, filled Liam's early years with stories and books, trying to improve the boy's curiosity. He shared tales of ancient civilizations and his love for history.
Liam, even as a child, seemed to absorb everything with a bright, cheerful demeanor. Though his life had begun in a tragic way, he was a enthousiast and joyful child. Harold was amazed at how resilient his grandson was, always smiling, always asking questions, never brought down by the fact that he didnt have real parents.
Still, despite the joy, there was always a bit of loneliness. Liam often asked about his parents. He knew his mother had passed away, but as he grew older and realized he'd never met his father, the questions became more precise. Harold would only shake his head and say, "Your father was never here, Liam. But you and I have always had each other."
Liam accepted this with surprising ease. He grew up with an unshakable optimism, finding everything about the world around him exciting. He had never let the absence of his parents ruin his great motivation and cheerful personality. Instead, he found happiness in the stories Harold told.
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Sitting on the worn couch in their small New York apartment, Liam gazed out the window at the city skyline. The sounds from the city below felt like a murmer to his thoughts. He could hear his grandfather shuffling papers in the next room, but his mind was far away, caught up with some questions he had never really asked.
'I wonder what she was like…' His mother, Elizabeth. He had seen the pictures and heard the stories obviously. but he wished he had just one memory of her. Not a story told by his grandfather, but a moment he could hold onto as his own.
Unfortunately he couldnt remember a single thing from his birth. He often thought about how strange it was to have such an significant event in his life. It left him feeling lost.
"I've lived a life before this one," Liam thought, not for the first time. His memories weren't hazy or distant, they were as clear as his memories of eating his lunch a couple hours ago. He could still remember the moment everything changed, the day he was swallowed by that spectral beast and he had to leave his old life behind. He didn't understand why it had happened, but he carried those memories with him, fully aware that he wasn't like the other kids and that he would never be like anyone in this world.
He had been someone else once---a historian, a man with a past. But the dark fragments of that life followed him. What exactly had brought him here, to this time and place? What purpose did it have? He wondered if he would ever truly understand what had happened to him.
But if there was one thing he had learned from both lives so far, it was that some mysteries weren't meant to be found out all at once. He'd take it slow, while enjoying the journey. After all, there was something beautiful and exciting about not knowing everything.
And him… His father, the man who had disappeared before he was even born. What kind of person just disappears like that? He'd never seen a photo, never even heard a name. His father was a blank dot. He didn't talk about it much—he didn't want to hurt Harold—but the questions were always there.
'Why did he leave?'
But, as quickly as the thought came, Liam pushed it away. 'No point in thinking about it. It's just me and Grandpa, and that's enough.'
Despite the questions that fly past in his head from time to time, Liam never let them settle in his heart. His life was good. Harold had raised him with care and love. 'Grandpa's done everything,' Liam reminded himself. He didn't need more, even if sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have a real family—a mother and a father, like other kids did.
A soft smile crept onto his face as he thought about the afternoons they had spent together. His grandfather's voice, telling him about ancient civilizations and faraway places. Liam had traveled the world without leaving his apartment thanks to his grandfather. 'Who needs a father when you have someone like Grandpa?'
Still, late at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, the gaps in his life felt bigger.
'Does it matter?' Liam shook his head lightly, as if trying to clear away the thoughts that lingered like fog.
He leaned back into the cushions, letting out a sigh. His past life had taught him to be cheerful, to focus on what he had instead of what he didn't have.
'Maybe one day...' Liam thought, his eyes drifting back to the window and the city beyond. 'Maybe one day, I'll understand why everything happened the way it did.' But for now, he would be content. He had Harold, that was enough.