The Old Man

The old man coughed and wheezed. His wrinkled skin had a yellow tinge to it. Life had given up on him, and had left him alone in the world. At this point he was merely biding time on this life sentence. Outliving his lovely wife of fifty three years. His children had moved across the country, giving him very little in the way of love and support. He had fought in wars to keep his country free. He had worked his whole life in the steel mills of the mid-west. Where was this man's reward? He was a God-fearing man, who always tried to do the right things. But it seemed that in his twilight years, he wasn't reaping what he thought he had sown. One night, at his lowest point, he called out to God to simply take him home. He was tired of being sick, of the loneliness, of the pain of living for eighty three years. He cried out to his father for mercy, and to reunite him with his wife and friends whom he had lost over the years. The next day, he woke up feeling dejected and ignored. He walked out in his front lawn to get his paper, as he did every morning. He noticed a small child playing ball in the road. His eyes turned to a truck traveling too fast to stop. At that moment, he lunged into the road, pushing the child out of the way of the oncoming truck. The old man was pronounced dead at the scene. He died a hero, with respect, and with a smile on his face. He had done the last thing he was supposed to, and finally reaped his reward...