If It's Meant To Be, It Will Be

Words of Wisdom If It's Meant To Be, It Will Be!As I walked home onefreezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked itup and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. Butthe wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as ifit had been in there for years. The envelope was worn and the only thing thatwas legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hopingto find some clue. Then I saw the dateline -1924. The letter had been writtenalmost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationerywith a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a 'Dear John' letter thattold the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael and said that the writercould not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrotethat she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautifulletter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner couldbe identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phonelisting for the address on the envelope. 'Operator,' I began, ' this is anunusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is thereanyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on anenvelope in the wallet?' She suggested I speak with her supervisor, whohesitated for a moment then said, 'Well, there is a phone listing at thataddress, but I can't give you the number.' She said, asa courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them ifthey wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back onthe line. 'I have a party who will speak with you.' I asked the woman on theother end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, 'Oh!we bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was30 years ago!' 'Would you know where that family could be located now?' Iasked. 'I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home someyears ago,' the woman said. 'Maybe if you got in touch with them they might beable to track down the daughter.' She gave me the name of the nursing home andI called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years agobut they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might beliving. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannahherself was now living in a nursinghome.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making sucha big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and aletter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the nursing homein which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phonetold me, 'Yes, Hannah is staying with us.' Even though it was already 10 p.m.,I asked if I could come by to see her. 'Well,' he said hesitatingly, 'if youwant to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.' Ithanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guardgreeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. Inthe day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet,silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told herabout finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw thepowder blue envelope with that little flower on the left,she took a deep breath and said, ' Young man, this letter was the last contactI ever had with Michael.' She looked away for a moment deep in thought andthen said softly, 'I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and mymother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like SeanConnery, the actor.' 'Yes,' she continued, 'Michael Goldstein was a wonderfulperson. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often and,' shehesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, 'tell him I still love him. Youknow,' she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, 'I never didmarry, I guess no one ever matched up to Michael.' I thanked Hannah and saidgoodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, theguard there asked, 'Was the old lady able to help you?' I told him she had givenme a lead. 'At least I have a last name.
But I think I'll let it go for a while.I spent almost the whole day trying to find theowner of this wallet.' I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brownleather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, ' Hey,wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with thatright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet must have found it in the hallsat least three times.' 'Who's Mr. Goldstein?' I asked as my hand began toshake. 'He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein'swallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.' I thanked the guardand quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said.We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would beup. On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, 'I think he's still in the dayroom. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man. 'We went to the onlyroom that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse wentover to him and asked if he had lost hiswallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocketand said, 'Oh, it is missing!' 'This kind gentleman found a wallet and wewondered if it could be yours?' I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the secondhe saw it, he smiled with relief and said, 'Yes, that's it! It must have droppedout of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.' 'No, thankyou,' I said. 'But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hopeof finding out who owned the wallet.' The smile on his face suddenlydisappeared. 'You read that letter?' 'Not only did I read it, I think I knowwhere Hannah is.' He suddenly grew pale. 'Hannah? You know where she is? How isshe? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,' he begged. 'She's fine ... just as pretty as when you knew her.' I said softly. The old mansmiled with anticipation and asked, 'Could you tell me where she is? I want tocall her tomorrow.' He grabbed my hand and said,'You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when thatletter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always lovedher.' 'Mr. Goldstein,' I said, 'come with me. 'We took the elevator down tothe third floor.
The hallways were darkened and only one or two littlenight-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watchingthe television. The nurse walked over to her. 'Hannah,' she said softly,pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. 'Do you know thisman?' She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, 'Hannah, it's Michael. Do you rememberme?' She gasped, 'Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!'He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tearsstreaming down our faces. 'See,' I said. 'See how the Good Lord works! If it'smeant to be, it will be.' About three weeks
later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. 'Can you get away onSunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!' Itwas a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up tojoin in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful.Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. Thehospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-oldbride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see thiscouple. A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years!