I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do—taking my son Eli to visit his best friend Zeke in the hospital. Zeke had been in a coma for days after a playground accident. Tubes, machines—his small body barely holding on.
Eli didn’t cry. He just placed a worn-out toy—one Zeke had given him—next to the bed and whispered, “You can have him back now.”
Later that night, I heard Eli talking. When I checked, I froze—Zeke was sitting on his bed, smiling. Faint. Translucent. “Just wanted to say goodbye,” he said. Then he vanished.
The next morning, the hospital called. Zeke had passed just after midnight.
Weeks later, we were invited to a will reading. Zeke had left everything to Eli: the toy, a few books… and a life insurance policy his parents had taken out. Eli was the beneficiary.
Zeke didn’t just say goodbye—he made sure my son would be okay.
Some goodbyes come with unexpected gifts.