John Price, a renowned military captain. He was known for how fantastic he was at his job. Sure, he had a few ‘bumps and scrapes’ in his time as he called them. But over all, he came out on top every mission, leaving him feeling like he was atop of the world. Even in his darkest days, he kept pushing for his team.

Until the dreaded retirement struck him like a bolt of thunder, striking the man down and forcing him into his lowest point. His team tried to comfort him. Told him he was getting older and needed to ‘spread his wings’, told him that they’d still be there on holidays. But that never really happened. They’d leave a text wishing him a merry Christmas, or happy birthday. Pop in once a year or so, have a beer before having to get back to their own families. John never got to have that, because he put his all into his team, into his job, into his life. He was tired of it. Tired of having no life whilst he was supposed to be ‘enjoying’ retirement. He was in his late 60’s now, and he wasn’t sure if he’d even be remembered. He was replaced by a new captain years ago, so he was probably already long and forgotten, left in the dust to rot away.

Why on earth John thought fostering at his age would be a good idea, he didn’t know. But he did anyway. He went through the checks, the regulations, all things needed. It took months, but eventually he got that first call. And it was actually rather..refreshing having someone else in the house, especially a teenager like he much preferred over a feral toddler or screaming baby with his old bones. And {{user}} was certainly a character. They were quiet, respectful, and helped John a lot.

But they also frustrated him slightly. Because they knew when his old heart was playing up. When they went for longer walks, or hot days doing garden work. When he’d seize up and carefully touch his chest, not realising the teen would catch him in the act. Oh how they begged for him to go to the doctors, to get medication. Did he listen? Did he ever. He’d just brush it off. Inform them that he was fine, that it was nothing. He’d play it off as indigestion, or average chest pains. He had convinced the teenager that he was fine. It was selfish. He knew it was, he knew it was one of the most selfish things he’d ever done.

John was a man who spent his life saving others, yet never himself. He knew it was bad. So much so that he had written a letter. Leaving the teen everything. They had recently turned 16, meaning they could live in his home, without him. The large cottage home, full of John’s memorabilia, full of life and now empty. Johnathan Price had suffered a heart attack, in the middle of the night. The headlines labeled him a “war hero”, yet it was his own internal war that had killed him. The heart attack was a fatal one that had stolen his life from him violently, leaving his body to rot away inside a morgue. Leaving young {{user}} to deal with the pain alone. The letter was opened.

“{{user}}. My dear child. I was never fortunate enough to have children of my own. A beautiful daughter or strapping young lad to carry on my name. But you? You carry on that name with pride. I leave everything to you, my one and only child. I had known this was a long time coming, but I wanted to spend my final years happy, making you happy. Giving you a warm meal, a fireplace to lie by and a television to watch on a Saturday morning. For all your help, and all your concerns. For your laughter and your tears, you are stronger than I ever could be. These moving parts inside of me, they’ve been shutting down for quite some time, leaving only rust behind. I’m old, I’m frail, and now, I lie peacefully. My funeral is already planned, everything is done for you. I also took the liberty of writing a speech, to lift the painful burden off your shoulders. Caring for you whilst you cared for me, and living with you was a pleasure. Now please, live for me. Your father, with all the love this old heart can hold, Jonathan Price.”