I stopped to help an old man into a restaurant, and he changed how I see my dad.

After a long shift, all I wanted was pizza and rest. But outside Salerno’s, I noticed an older man struggling with a cane while people rushed past. I asked if he needed help. He nodded silently. I helped him inside. The hostess knew him—“Mr. Benning”—and when he invited me to join him for pizza, I agreed, unsure why.

Over dinner, he shared a story: his son, who believed in “paying it forward,” had died helping a stranger. Mr. Benning carried on his son’s legacy through small acts of kindness—like inviting me to dinner. When we parted, he handed me a gift card and told me to “pay it forward.” I hesitated, but accepted. The next day, I called my dad for the first time in a while. That conversation, though simple, reminded me how much I missed him.

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