12 Touching Moments That Remind Us Empathy Can Heal the World’s Loneliest Souls

My BF left me 5 days before I gave birth. My mom stood by me during the delivery. When I woke up, I learned my baby had been given up for adoption. I cried so hard I could barely breathe. I believed my mom had betrayed me.
Five years later, Mom passed away. While cleaning her room, I found my hospital records tucked under her mattress.
What I read shattered me.
After a difficult delivery, I spent days recovering in the hospital. The records showed that staff met with me several times before any paperwork was finalized. Each time, I confirmed the same decision: I wanted to give up my baby for adoption. I had no memory of it.
According to the notes, I kept crying and saying I didn’t want my child growing up the way I did. I didn’t want them worrying about rent or watching their exhausted single mother struggle every day. I kept saying, “I don’t want my baby to have my life.”
Then I read the final note.
“Patient’s mother strongly opposed the adoption and repeatedly encouraged her daughter to wait. She agreed only after the patient’s decision was confirmed multiple times. At the mother’s request, copies of all records were preserved.”
For twenty years, I blamed my mother. I called her selfish. Once, during an argument, I even said, “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
She never defended herself. Not once.

A few years ago, I was in a super bad place in my life, and I just burst into tears in public. I was in McDonald’s sitting down, waiting for my order.
There were people all around me. No one said anything for what felt like the longest time. They just kinda purposefully ignored me. I felt embarrassed and ashamed, but the tears kept coming.
Then a teen came up behind me, must’ve been 14/15 years old, tapped me on the back, and asked if I was okay.
He asked if I wanted his unopened burger. I will never, ever forget that.
That was really kind of him. In that moment, I felt really hopeless, alone, and invisible. He showed me, a random stranger bawling her eyes out, that act of kindness, I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Sometimes, just a kind word from a stranger can really impact you. It was kind of cool and surprising that he had that empathy at such a young age.
Many adults in the room averted their eyes. I understand why, but really, no one is gonna not like someone just asking if they’re okay. Made me realise at the time there are still some good, empathetic people in the world and that it’s worth holding on.

I got my bike taken recently and was really sad about it. So when me and my brother went out for a walk, I saw my bike. The reason I knew that it was my bike is that I had a blue rope attached to the bottom of the seat.
So I was about to take action, but right before that, I had to look at the person who took it. It was an old man, and he was smiling and had groceries attached to the bike. He had really bad, ripped clothes. But he was smiling.
So I thought taking action and telling the old guy that the bike is mine and to get away from it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
After all, I could buy a new bike, and it seemed that he needed it more than I did.
So I waved at him, and he approached me. I wanted to buy him some food, and I did. My brother didnt know it was my bike because he never saw it. He lives in another county and is visited rarely. At the end, I bought the person who took my bike some food, and he didnt know it. But he was happy.

Once in 3rd grade, I had to stay in the classroom after class because the teacher wanted to confront me about my strange behavior, since I was usually one of the best in school. Now I didn’t say a word and never had any homework prepared.
I told her my parents had separated, and my dad had moved far away, and I didn’t know when or whether I would ever see him again.
And instead of giving me a speech, she just gave me a big hug and said it’s ok, go home. She never mentioned anything again after that, and somehow I did better in school again from the next day on.
I am now thirty years old and still sometimes think about these few seconds; it is one of my most precious memories.

I didn’t have a grandmother-type person in my life to do things with, like baking cookies or gardening, etc., but this little old lady in my neighborhood saw that I was a bit of a loner, and she was always inviting me to do little things with her.
My favorite memory is her asking me to help her pick raspberries. I had never done that before, and I was delighted to help.
We got a good amount, and I didn’t expect it, but then she asked if I wanted to have some over ice cream.
I can still remember her kind conversation over the ice cream (which was amazing—she taught me how to make a fast raspberry sauce too). I named my daughter after her. She was the kindest person I’ve ever met.

I was in a different city for college. At the end of the year, I was waiting for the train on a very cold winter day. Saw a small coffee shop and decided I could just sit there. I didnt have much money, I could only afford a tea.
I ordered my tea and read my book for a while.
Then I saw three cats outside, and their eyes were infected. I asked the coffee shop owner if I could let them in because it was cold. He accepted.
I cleaned their eyes and applied cream (I took care of sick cats my whole life), and the cats decided they wanted to sleep in a warm corner. The owner offered me some coffee for free. I gladly accepted. None has ever done something for me for free while I was there, far from home.
So we sat there and talked as we had our coffee, he played music for me, and I left when it was time for my train. This year, when I went back there, I learned he adopted the cats and still plays the same music in the shop. That evening is a small, warm memory in my head.

I stayed up all night, stressed, and just couldn’t sleep in my Hong Kong hostel. I thought I was gonna be stuck there during some seasonal event. Hong Kong is really expensive, and every single hotel and hostel was booked for the event.
My hostel was kicking me out because I hadn’t booked for a longer stay, and someone else had reserved my room. I couldn’t go back to Beijing without getting my visa renewed, so I was probably gonna be stuck on the streets for a week or two.
When, at the last moment, some guy informed me that ONE visa renewal office was still open, I got up and sprinted, caught the train, and then a bus, tired and confused in a new place, I barely made it.
I talked to the guy for a bit, and he told me that it was too late, I was trapped.
He said I’d have to wait a week. I told him I’d be homeless, I pleaded with him, asking if there was anything he could do, or if possible, did he know anyone else who was still open?
He lied, and I knew it. He wanted my money and was fine with me being on the streets for a week to get it. But what could I do? So I left with my head down.
Fortunately, the receptionist heard me pleading, we locked eyes for a moment, and she nodded me over.
Her desk was one thin door away from his office, one thin door from losing her job.
Here I am, a complete foreign stranger, she handed me a piece of paper with instructions in English to a place still open for like 30 minutes.
I didn’t say a word, couldn’t say a word, just mouthed “thank you so much” and gestured my gratefulness as best as I could and sprinted off. Made it with like a minute to spare, and they were even cheaper and faster. That Hong Kong girl is my champ.

I was at a shopping centre once, just after I had my first baby. I was finding the pram a bit overwhelming, so I had her in a baby carrier and the big bag with all the baby stuff on my shoulder.
It was probably one of the first outings on our own, and I was like, I got this.
Then I ordered a hot chocolate. As I picked it up to take it to a table, the strap of my bag fell off my shoulder and hit my elbow, causing me to drop my drink, and it spilled EVERYWHERE.
I felt like crying and walked over to a seat to assess the damage.
I had barely sat down when this older man came over and said, “Is the baby ok?!”
And she was just sleeping, not a peep.
But then went and replaced my drink and asked someone to come and clean the spill. I still think of it all the time, seven years later. My daughter was a pretty perfect baby, but it’s so hard in the beginning, and I was living away from my family and most of my friends. Thanks, random man!

We had just moved to Germany. We lived far from the base that my school was at, so my dad would drive me to the bus station that was halfway. I’d take the bus to school, and then after school, I’d take it again to get to the bus station where he would wait for me.
One day, my dad wasn’t there waiting, and I said I’m a big boy now, I can handle this. Tried to take my mind off of it and take in the scenery. But then 30 minutes flew by. Then an hour. Still no sign. This was way before everyone had cell phones in their pockets.
At this point, I started crying my eyes out. I was so sure I was orphaned, and my life was over, and my parents were gone, and I’ll never see them again. I was imagining life on the streets, and no more Pokémon cards, and it was terrifying.
This old man, who owned the chocolate shop next to the bus stop, came out and started speaking to me. I didn’t understand a lick of German and tried telling him in English that I was waiting for my dad.
I don’t think he spoke English, but he invited me into his small shop and sat me down at a table. I was still pretty upset, trying to plan my new life on the streets.
That sweet old man came back with handmade chocolate bars and some water, and it was sooo good. I instantly felt better. My dad came soon after, and I ran outside to get him. I had no manners and didn’t even thank that kind man.
But it was such a sweet gesture of genuine kindness, and I still think about it often as I wander about in my adult life. Sometimes I know I’m not being the best person I can be, and I think back to that man and realize I need to change. I need to be the person who takes the time to help a crying, snotty, bratty boy. It’s those small acts that carry over a lifetime.

I worked at Walmart a while back in my early 20’s. We had a zone manager who was amazing.
It was Christmas Eve, nearing 11 pm, and we were wrapping things up to be shut down and closed by 2:30 am (24-hour super center).
She knew I had a daughter, and it was her first Christmas. She came up and patted me on the back and told me to go home so I could enjoy Christmas morning with her and my wife.
I hope she’s doing well. She was an amazing person.

My stepfather made it clear I was tolerated, not wanted. He stepped out of every family photo. After he passed away, I helped clean his room and found a stack of photos in his desk. In each one, a small paper heart was glued where he should’ve stood. Under mine, in pencil, he’d written, “Sorry, cupcake, I didn’t know how to be a father.” My mom found me there and told me something she’d kept for years: his own stepfather had yelled at him for “getting in the way” of family pictures. He stepped out of ours so I would never feel like he had—like a child taking up someone else’s space. And he didn’t want to take my real dad’s place. He thought distance was protection. It was the only language of care he’d ever been taught. Now one of those photos hangs in my hallway, paper heart and all. Every guest asks about it, and every time, I get to say: “That’s my dad. He’s in this one.”

When my ill friend realised she probably wouldn’t make it to spring, she (with the help of her partner) snuck into the gardens of her friends and planted tulip bulbs so that we would have a surprise of all the flowers after she was gone.