Once upon a time, in a quaint little village nestled between rolling hills and a sparkling

river, there lived a young boy named Oliver. Oliver had curly brown hair that always
seemed to be in a tangled mess, and his big, round glasses made him look like a curious
owl. He lived with his parents in a cozy cottage at the edge of the village, surrounded by
a garden filled with colorful flowers.

Oliver's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, were the kindest people in the village. They
were known for their warm smiles, generous hearts, and the delicious pies they baked
for everyone on special occasions. The Thompsons loved their son more than anything
in the world, and Oliver loved them back just as much.

One sunny morning, as the birds sang in the trees and the river glistened in the
distance, tragedy struck the Thompson family. A terrible illness had swept through the
village, and despite all their efforts to protect themselves, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson fell ill.
The villagers did their best to help, bringing herbs and soups, but the sickness was
relentless.

One fateful evening, with tears in their eyes, Oliver's parents called him to their bedside.
They held his small hands in their weak ones and spoke softly.

"Oliver, my dear," his mother began, "we love you more than words can say. But now, it's
time for us to leave this world."

Oliver's heart ached, and he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks.
"No, Mama, Papa, please don't go! I need you."

His father, weakly smiling, said, "You are strong, Oliver. You have our love and the love
of this village. You must be brave and carry our memory with you."

With those words, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson closed their eyes, and their spirits gently left
their earthly bodies, joining the stars in the night sky.

Oliver felt a deep sadness wash over him as he hugged his parents for the last time. The
village mourned with him, sharing their grief and supporting him in every way they
could. But Oliver knew he had to find a way to carry on without his parents.

Days turned into weeks, and Oliver began to remember the lessons his parents had
taught him. He knew how to tend to the garden, bake pies, and care for the animals. He
decided to honor their memory by continuing their traditions and sharing the love they
had given him.
As he worked in the garden, tending to the flowers and vegetables, Oliver found solace
in the simple tasks. The villagers would come by, offering kind words and helping hands.
Together, they created a beautiful memorial garden in honor of his parents, a place
where everyone could find comfort and peace.

Oliver also remembered the stories his parents used to tell him. They had always
encouraged his imagination, and now he used it to create stories of his own. He would
gather the children of the village under the shade of a great oak tree and tell them tales
of far-off lands, brave heroes, and magical adventures. The children's laughter and
smiles were like a balm to his wounded heart.

Years passed, and Oliver grew into a strong and kind young man. The village had
become his family, and he had become their guardian. He never forgot his parents and
their love, and he carried it with him in everything he did.

One day, as he stood in the garden, he looked up at the sky and smiled. "Thank you,
Mama and Papa," he whispered. "You may be among the stars, but your love still shines
brightly in my heart."

And so, the story of Oliver, the boy who lost his parents but found a family in his village,
became a legend that would be passed down through generations. It taught everyone
that love, kindness, and the strength to carry on could overcome even the greatest of
sorrows. Oliver's parents may have left this world, but their legacy of love and goodness
lived on forever.