makeup at 70

The scent of evening roses drifted through the open window, mixing with the familiar aroma of face powder and foundation. Lisa gazed into the mirror, her practiced hands deftly applying the makeup that had become as much a part of her identity as her silver hair and gentle smile. Each stroke was a reminder of her independence, a testament to the woman who, despite the years, still valued her appearance.

But yesterday’s family dinner was a different story. As she added the finishing touches to her look, her daughter-in-law, Jenna, entered the room. Jenna’s eyes narrowed as she watched Lisa. With a sneer, she said, “Oh, you look pathetic trying to cover up your wrinkles. At your age, you should stop pretending to be something you’re not.” Lisa’s heart sank. She had always prided herself on maintaining her appearance, on the confidence that makeup gave her. Her husband, who had passed away years ago, had loved her for it. Now, her son was her rock, her support, but Jenna’s words cut deep, leaving a sting that makeup couldn’t cover.

The Silent Resolve – That night, as Lisa lay in bed, her mind raced. Her husband’s voice echoed in her memory, urging her to stay true to herself. She had faced many challenges in life, raising her son alone, enduring the loneliness after her husband’s death. But this – this was an attack on her dignity, her very essence.

The next morning, as she sipped her coffee, Lisa made a decision. She wouldn’t let Jenna’s cruel words define her. She would give Jenna a reality check, not through confrontation, but by showing her that age was not a barrier to beauty or confidence.

A Plan in Motion – Lisa’s plan began with a simple act of defiance. She dressed in her finest clothes, did her makeup with extra care, and walked out with her head held high. She decided to visit an old friend, Eleanor, who owned a local boutique. Eleanor, a sprightly woman in her late sixties, had always admired Lisa’s grace and poise.

Eleanor’s eyes sparkled with understanding. “Say no more, darling. We’ll make them see the real you.” They spent the afternoon selecting outfits that highlighted Lisa’s elegance, clothes that made her feel youthful yet sophisticated. Eleanor also introduced her to a local photographer, Paul, who specialized in portraits of older women.

The Grand Reveal – With Eleanor’s help, Lisa arranged a small gathering at the boutique. She invited friends, family, and even some of Jenna’s acquaintances. She wanted Jenna to see her in a new light, surrounded by admiration and respect.

The evening of the event arrived, and Lisa stood in front of the mirror once more. This time, she saw not just an old woman applying makeup, but a confident, beautiful person ready to reclaim her dignity. As she entered the boutique, the room fell silent. Gasps of admiration filled the air. Paul captured her every move, the camera loving her confidence and grace. Jenna arrived, her eyes widening in surprise.

A Lesson Learned – Lisa took the stage, her voice steady. “I’ve heard whispers that at seventy, I should stop wearing makeup, stop trying to be something I’m not. But let me tell you this – makeup doesn’t define me. It enhances the woman I’ve always been.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. “We all have our ways of feeling confident, of expressing ourselves. For some, it’s makeup. For others, it might be fashion, art, or sports. Age doesn’t diminish our right to feel beautiful.”

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MY FIRST DAY AT THE ACADEMY

Today marked the beginning of a new chapter.

I stood there in a freshly pressed uniform that felt a little too stiff, trying to exude confidence despite my stomach flipping like a coin. It was my first day at the academy, surrounded by strangers, all of us pretending we weren’t nervous. And then I saw her.

My baby sister, Avery.

She came toddling across the concrete in her little white shoes and denim jacket, topped off with the biggest bow you’ve ever seen. It was as if she were marching into battle, wielding cuteness as her weapon.

As soon as she spotted me, her face lit up like Christmas morning. She reached her arms out and yelled, “Bubba!” as though it were the most important mission of her life.

In that moment, all my nervousness melted away. Avery’s bright, innocent face was a beacon of comfort, and I couldn’t help but smile. My little sister, the one who always believed in me, was here. Despite all the uncertainty swirling around me, I knew she was my biggest fan, my number one supporter.

I crouched down to catch her in my arms, lifting her up and spinning her around. The weight of the uniform, the tightness in my chest, and all the anxiety about facing the unknown evaporated the moment I held her close.

“You look so cool, Bubba!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration. “Are you gonna catch bad guys?”

I chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Yeah, something like that, kiddo. I’m gonna work hard to make sure people are safe, just like the officers we see on TV. You’ll be proud of me.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her trademark unshakeable smile lighting up her face. Her faith in me felt like the most powerful force in the world. I stood there with her, surrounded by the noise and bustle of the academy’s first day, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose.

As we chatted, I could hear some of my fellow recruits whispering and laughing under their breath, likely wondering why my younger sister was here on my first day. Some of them had family too, but none had a little sibling cheering them on. A sting of embarrassment crept in, but I shook it off. Avery had a way of making everything feel right.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I said softly, trying to reassure both her and myself. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

She nodded solemnly, giving me a big, dramatic wave as I joined the other recruits lining up for the opening speeches.

The day unfolded in a whirlwind of drills, introductions, and endless expectations. Everyone seemed to be sizing each other up, trying to determine who was the strongest, the toughest, the most prepared. I felt like a fish out of water, constantly adjusting my stance, wiping sweat from my brow, and trying to keep up with everyone’s pace.

But no matter how tiring it became, Avery’s little face lingered in the back of my mind, her words urging me to push through: “You’re gonna catch bad guys.” That thought fueled me when my body screamed for rest.

By the end of the first day, I was utterly exhausted—physically and mentally. My legs ached from standing, my head buzzed from constant learning, and I barely had time for lunch. The other recruits seemed to take it all in stride, but doubt crept in. Was I truly cut out for this? Would I be able to keep up? Was it all too much?

As I made my way to the parking lot, I saw her again.

Avery stood by the front entrance, arms crossed in front of her chest, wearing the same confident smile she had when she first spotted me earlier that day.

“I’m waiting for you, Bubba!” she called, hopping from one foot to the other. “I’m here to watch you catch bad guys! Are you ready?”

The weight of the day seemed to lift as I approached her. I knelt down to her level, my heart swelling with gratitude.

“Ready, kiddo. But I think I might need a little rest first,” I said, laughing.

She nodded sagely, scrunching her face in a way that made me forget she was only seven. “Don’t worry, Bubba. You’ll be the best. I know it.”

Driving home that night, with Avery happily chattering in the back seat, something clicked. The academy might be tough, and the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but if there was one thing I had learned from Avery, it was the power of believing in yourself, no matter what anyone else thought or how hard it got.

The next day, I showed up at the academy early. I put on my game face, no longer pretending I wasn’t nervous, but embracing it. The people around me were fierce, but I wasn’t backing down. I was here for Avery. I wanted to show her—and myself—that I could do this.

Weeks passed, and the pressure mounted. The academy’s physical training pushed me beyond my limits. I barely slept, and there were days I felt like I would collapse under the weight of it all. But Avery’s voice never left my mind.

“You’re gonna catch bad guys.”

Each time I felt weak, her words echoed in my head. Every time I wanted to quit, I thought of her bright eyes and unwavering faith. It was as if she had a secret ability to see through my fear and self-doubt.

One afternoon, during a particularly grueling drill, I found myself struggling to keep up. My muscles burned, my body begged for relief, but I wouldn’t let it show. I refused to be the one who gave up—not with so much riding on this.

That’s when I heard a familiar voice.

“Come on, Bubba! You’ve got this!”

I glanced up, and there she was—Avery, standing just outside the training area, cupping her hands around her mouth as she cheered me on. She wasn’t supposed to be there—only recruits and trainers were allowed in—but there she was, my little sister, breaking the rules for me.

It was like a shot of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The encouragement I needed came from the most unexpected place. Her belief in me was contagious.

With a renewed surge of strength, I pushed through the drill, faster and stronger than before, ignoring the exhaustion that had nearly crippled me.

That evening, I called her, my voice filled with pride.

“You were right, Avery. You always were. I made it through today.”

She squealed with excitement on the other end of the line. “I knew you could do it, Bubba! I knew it!”

Much later, after I had completed the challenging first few months of the academy and passed my physical and mental assessments, I realized something important: Avery wasn’t just cheering me on. She was teaching me how to believe in myself, how to trust that no matter how tough things got, I had it in me to succeed.

The real twist came when I received an unexpected letter. I had been nominated for a prestigious position within the department—one typically reserved for those who had proven themselves with exceptional skills and achievements. My trainers had seen something in me—something I hadn’t even realized I possessed.

In the end, the hardest journey became the most rewarding—not just because of accolades or recognition, but because I learned the greatest lesson of all: that belief in yourself, no matter how small it may seem, can carry you through even the toughest battles.

It was Avery’s unwavering belief in me that had given me the strength to push through when I felt like giving up. And that, more than anything, was the greatest gift I could have ever asked for.

So, if you’re struggling, remember this: the people who believe in you—even when you don’t believe in yourself—can help you find strength you never knew you had. Keep going. You’re stronger than you think.

If this story resonated with you, share it with someone who needs a reminder to keep believing in themselves. We all need a little encouragement now and then.

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I BOUGHT MYSELF A BIRTHDAY CAKE

Today’s my 97th birthday. I woke up with no candles, no cards, no phone calls.

I live in a small room above a closed-down hardware store. The landlord doesn’t charge me much, mostly because I fixed his plumbing last winter. Not much in here besides a creaky bed, a kettle, and my chair by the window. That window’s my favorite—it lets me watch the buses go by.

I walked to the bakery two blocks down. The girl behind the counter smiled like she didn’t recognize me, even though I come in every week for day-old bread. I told her, “Today’s my birthday,” and she said, “Oh, happy birthday,” like she was reading it off a cue card.

I bought a small cake. Vanilla with strawberries. I even had them write “Happy 97th, Mr. L.” on it. Felt silly asking for it, but I did.

Back in my room, I set it on the crate I use as a table. Lit a single candle. Sat down, and waited.

I don’t know why I expected anyone to come. My son, Eliot, hasn’t called in five years. Last time we spoke, I said something about how his wife talked down to me. Maybe I shouldn’t have. He hung up, and that was that. No calls, no visits. I don’t even know where he lives now.

I cut myself a slice. The cake was good. Sweet, soft, fresh.

I took a photo of it with my old flip phone. Sent it to the number I still had saved under “Eliot.” Just wrote: Happy birthday to me.

Then I stared at the screen, waiting to see if those little dots would appear.

They didn’t.

I sat there for a while. Ate another slice. The frosting was a bit too sweet, but I liked how the strawberries weren’t frozen like the ones I get from the market. Then I looked at my phone again.

Still nothing.

I figured that was it. Maybe the number had changed. Maybe he blocked me. I’d probably never know.

So I shuffled over to the window, sat in my chair, and watched a bus hiss to a stop across the street. A mother helped her toddler up the steps. A young man in a suit held the door for her. It was quiet again after that.

About an hour later, I heard a knock. Three soft taps on the door downstairs.

No one knocks anymore.

I grabbed my cardigan and made my way down. My knees don’t like stairs much these days, but I got there. When I opened the front door, there was a teenage girl standing there. Probably 14, maybe 15. Curly hair, a red backpack, and nervous eyes.

“Are you Mr. L?” she asked.

I nodded, confused.

“I’m Soraya. Um… I think I’m your granddaughter.”

I swear my heart stopped.

She pulled out her phone, showed me the text I had sent. Apparently, Eliot still had the number—but the phone was now hers. He’d given her the old flip phone “in case of emergencies,” and she found my message while cleaning out the saved inbox.

She said, “I told my dad. He said not to reply. But… I wanted to meet you anyway.”

I didn’t know what to say. I stood there like a fool, my mouth open.

“I brought something,” she added, unzipping her backpack. She pulled out a card, handmade with blue marker and cut-out paper hearts. It read, Happy Birthday, Grandpa. I hope it’s not too late to meet you.

I just broke. Right there on the doorstep. Not a loud cry. Just tears, like a faucet you forgot to turn all the way off.

I invited her in. We sat on my rickety bed, shared the rest of the cake. She told me she loved painting and that she’d always wondered why she never met her dad’s side of the family. I told her about Eliot when he was a kid—how he used to put ketchup on scrambled eggs and wore mismatched socks every day in second grade.

Before she left, she took a selfie of us on her phone. Said she was going to print it out for her wall.

“Can I come back next weekend?” she asked, standing at the door.

I nodded, still not quite trusting my voice.

When she walked away, I stayed standing there for a long time, watching her red backpack bounce as she disappeared around the corner.

That night, my phone dinged.

A new message. From an unfamiliar number.

It just said: Thank you for being kind to her. —E.

I stared at that message for a long time too.

Life doesn’t always give you clean endings. Sometimes, it just gives you tiny openings.

And maybe that’s enough.

If this story moved you even a little, share it. You never know who needs a reminder to reach out before it’s too late. ❤️

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Dad Told Us to Give Mom Kitchen Utensils for Christmas

We knew we couldn’t just let it slide. My brother Jake and I were halfway through our annual pre-Christmas mission—snooping around upstairs for Mom’s hidden stash of presents—when we stumbled across something far worse than an empty closet.

Through Dad’s half-closed office door, we heard him on the phone with Uncle Ray, his voice casual and joking, as if he were discussing the weather.

“What should we get Melissa?” he chuckled. “Eh, just kitchen stuff. Maybe a blender, some spatulas… whatever she needs to finally learn how to cook. She’s such a slacker in there.”

I froze mid-step.

Slacker?

Jake caught my eye, his brows climbing so high they practically touched his hairline. Dad kept talking, voice dropping just enough to make us lean in.

“If she had better gear, maybe her meals wouldn’t taste like cardboard. Know what I mean?”

I couldn’t believe it. This was Mom he was talking about—our mom—who worked full-time, kept our house cleaner than a showroom, never missed a school event, and still stayed up until midnight ironing uniforms or helping Jake with whatever science experiment was currently threatening to detonate in the kitchen. Cooking might not have been her passion, sure, but she still made dinner every night because no one else bothered to.

Jake and I backed away from the door, silent and fuming.

That night in Jake’s room, Operation Outplay was born.

“If he wants to turn Christmas into a roast, let’s make him the punchline,” I said, pacing between the leaning towers of laundry on his floor.

Jake cracked his knuckles. “We change the narrative.”

Step one: we emailed every single family member who’d be at Christmas—grandparents, aunts, cousins—explaining exactly what Dad had said. No exaggeration. No embellishment. Just the plain truth, followed by a list of things Mom had wanted for years but never bought for herself: a designer purse, a plush reading chair, a spa day gift card, her favorite skincare set, and a delicate necklace with our initials engraved.

At the bottom of the email, we added:

“Oh, and instead of socks or grilling tools for Dad, please get him a fishing pole. Trust us—he’ll get it.”

Responses came back almost immediately.

Aunt Joanne: Count me in. Melissa’s the hardest-working person I know.

Grandpa: Fishing rod ordered. This will be gold.

By the end of the week, the trap was set.

Christmas morning smelled like cinnamon rolls and pine. Mom was bustling around in her robe, hair in a perfectly imperfect bun, making coffee for everyone and lighting the fireplace. Dad lounged in his recliner with cocoa, looking like a king surveying his court.

The living room buzzed with chatter as we opened gifts—scarves, socks, the usual—until it was Dad’s turn.

Aunt Joanne handed him a long, narrow package first.

“From me,” she said brightly.

Dad tore off the paper. “Oh… a fishing rod. Huh.”

“The best of the best,” Aunt Joanne said. “Thought you’d love it.”

Next came Jake’s gift: another fishing rod.

Then mine: a third rod.

By the time Uncle Ray, Aunt Claire, and Grandpa had handed over their presents, Dad was the proud owner of six fishing poles and a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Okay, seriously—what the hell is going on?” he demanded. “This is a joke, right? I don’t even fish!”

Across the room, Mom was unwrapping her presents, tears in her eyes as she pulled a beautiful leather purse from its box.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “How did you know I wanted this?”

Uncle Ray winked. “We had some help.”

The spa day gift card came next. Then the skincare set. Then the note promising her reading chair would be delivered that week. And finally, the necklace, delicate and heart-shaped, with our names etched inside.

She held it to her chest. “This… this is the best Christmas I’ve had in years.”

Dad, meanwhile, was muttering about “whatever happened to kitchen appliances” until Jake folded his arms and said, “You told Uncle Ray Mom was lazy in the kitchen and needed better tools. Thought we’d give you some better tools… for fishing.”

The color drained from Dad’s face. “It was just a joke—”

“Yeah,” I said. “We heard every word.”

Mom crossed the room, set one of the rods gently on his lap, and smiled coolly. “Merry Christmas, darling. Looks like you’ve got a new hobby.”

The room erupted in laughter.

That night, after the dishes were done and the guests had gone, Mom pulled Jake and me into a tight hug.

“You two…” she whispered. “You made me feel so seen. And so loved.”

Jake grinned. “You are the whole day, Mom.”

She kissed the tops of our heads. “Best gifts I’ve ever gotten.”

As for Dad? He never mentioned kitchen appliances again. The six fishing rods still sit untouched in the garage—a quiet reminder that sometimes the best way to demand respect is with a little creativity.

Operation Outplay: complete success.

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My Fiancé’s Daughter Wore a Hat at Our Wedding

I had every intention of making it the best day of my life. And indeed, it was.

However, it wasn’t the vows, the champagne, or the stunning floral arch that made it memorable. No, it was Grace.

Grace, my fiancé Lucas’s eight-year-old daughter, had captured my heart from the moment we met. At first, she was a bit reserved, her calm and serious demeanor giving the impression that she was much older than her actual age. Gaining her trust was a journey, but every moment spent was worth it.

While I painted my nails, she would sit beside me on the sofa, quietly observing with wide, curious eyes. Occasionally, she would lean in and ask questions in that sweet, innocent voice children use when trying to understand something new.

For the first half of the year, she called me "Miss Julia." But one afternoon, as she reached for my hand, she looked up at me with those sincere eyes and asked, “May I call you Mama-Jules?”

In that moment, my heart burst into a thousand pieces.

When Lucas and I decided to marry, I knew our wedding wouldn’t just be about the two of us; it would be about the three of us becoming a family. I made sure Grace was involved in every detail. She chose her own flower girl dress—a light pink gown with layers of shimmering tulle that twinkled as she twirled. Together, we picked flowers for the centerpieces, and while sampling cake, we even came up with a silly handshake. Her joy and enthusiasm filled every moment leading up to our big day.

However, there was one thing I couldn’t understand.

On the morning of the wedding, Grace arrived wearing a winter hat she had crocheted herself. It was a soft powder blue, made from thick yarn, with two oversized pom-poms that flopped like floppy ears. There was no way it matched her dress, the spring garden setting, or even the bright May day.

As soon as she and Lucas stepped out of the car, my eyes were drawn to the hat. I knelt down to her level, a smile on my face. “Hey, sweet pea,” I said. “That’s quite the hat you’ve got there!”

She nodded solemnly, as if it were a matter of great importance.

I glanced at Lucas, who shook his head slightly, signaling me not to pursue it. I decided to let it go. Kids have their quirks—perhaps it was a comfort item, or a gift from someone special. I didn’t want to make her feel awkward on our wedding day.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. My dress sparkled in the sunlight, Lucas looked at me as if I were his entire universe, and Grace stood proudly behind us, clutching her flower basket like a knight guarding something precious.

But the hat remained.

It stayed perched on her head throughout the ceremony, during the vows, in all the photographs, at dinner, and even while she danced with the other children.

Then came the moment I will never forget.

As the band finished playing a slow, romantic tune, the room buzzed with laughter and the gentle clinking of glasses. Suddenly, Grace made her way to the center of the room, standing alone with something small in her hands.

As people noticed her, the noise gradually faded.

Lucas and I sat at the sweetheart table, and I turned to see her approach us, her eyes focused and steps filled with determination.

“I have a present for you,” she announced in a clear voice.

I smiled, touched. “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to—”

Before I could finish, she lifted the hat from her head.

It was as if the entire room collectively held its breath.

Gone were her long honey-colored locks. She had cut most of it off, but not in a careless way; she had done it thoughtfully, as if someone had helped her make it look nice.

In her hands, she cradled a bundle of her hair, tied with a silver ribbon.

As she placed it on my lap, she said simply, “For you.”

I stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was offering.

A tremor ran through Lucas’s hand as he gently squeezed mine. “She wanted to give you the most special gift she could,” he said, his eyes glistening. “She wanted to give you…” He paused, “Last month, she asked me what she could give you that would be uniquely hers—something she would never lose or break.”

Grace looked up at me with an open expression, her sincerity shining through. “You’re going to be my mother from now on,” she said. “I wanted to give you a little part of me. Something meaningful.”

My throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. Tears streamed down my cheeks, too late to hold back.

The room was silent, all eyes on us, witnessing this little girl offering a piece of herself to the woman who would soon marry her father.

I knelt down, cradling her face in my hands. “This,” I said, my voice shaky, “is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.” I would cherish it forever.

For a moment, Grace looked at me with the same shyness she often displayed, then broke into a wide, radiant smile that lit up her face.

The room erupted into quiet applause—not the boisterous kind, but a gentle, genuine acknowledgment of a moment that felt sacred.

It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t about being seen.

It was simply love.

Later that evening, as the celebration wound down, Lucas held me close under the fairy lights strung among the trees. I glanced across the lawn to see Grace playing tag with her cousins, her blue hat forgotten.

“She is incredible,” I whispered.

“She’s yours now too,” Lucas murmured, kissing my forehead.

And while the wedding had been stunning, it was Grace’s gift—her trust, her courage, and her heart—that made it an unforgettable experience.

Because sometimes love doesn’t arrive in the form of flowers or sparkling diamonds. Sometimes, it comes in the shape of a little girl wearing a knitted hat, offering the most selfless gift the world has ever known.

From that day forward, Grace and I became inseparable. We had always been close, but that moment forged a bond that words could hardly describe. It wasn’t just her hair she had given me; she had given me her heart.

Yet, our story was far from over.

Weeks later, as Lucas and I sat on the porch watching the sunset, he said thoughtfully, “Maybe we should do something meaningful with what she did.”

Instantly, I nodded. “Like starting a foundation. We could create wigs for children who’ve lost their hair—especially those going through treatment or experiencing alopecia. Something that helps them feel loved and beautiful.”

Suddenly, Grace, who had been lying on the sofa with her coloring book, perked up. “Can I help?” she asked eagerly. “Just like I made you happy, Mom, I want to make other people happy too!”

Thus, the Love Wig Foundation was born.

Over time, Grace became its very essence. She helped design the wigs, wrote heartfelt notes to accompany each one—simple messages like “So you can smile when you wear this,” crafted in careful block letters—and spoke at events to share her passion for the initiative.

Even at just eight years old, she understood a lesson many people spend their entire lives trying to grasp: true love is about giving without expecting anything in return.

Years later, as a teenager, Grace hugged me tightly before taking the stage at one of our charity events. Standing close to her mother, she said, “See, Mom? Trust me when I say love makes everything better.”

In that moment, I was reminded once again why she was—and would always be—the greatest gift I had ever received.

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Meet Joe Biden’s 7 Grandkids

Joe Biden, the former president, is a great-grandfather in addition to a grandfather! The majority of his grandchildren are girls. His late son inspired the name of his youngest grandson.

The grandkids of former President Joe Biden Jr. have talked about their strong relationship with him over the years. Three of his children from his first marriage—Joseph R. “Beau” Biden III, Robert Hunter Biden, and Naomi Christina “Amy” Biden—have given him seven grandchildren. Sadly, Naomi lost her life in a childhood accident.

Ashley Biden is Joe’s second daughter from his second marriage to Dr. Jill Biden. Natalie Biden and Robert “Hunter” Biden II, the former president’s children, survived his late son Beau III.

Hunter is the father of Maisy Biden, Finnegan, and Naomi, although he is rumoured to have had another child, Navy Roberts, with a different lady. Hunter had Beau Biden Jr. from his second marriage. Since then, Joe has talked candidly about his relationship with his grandchildren and provided some information about how they stay in touch.

Joe’s Relationship with His Grandchildren

A number of Joe’s grandchildren discussed their relationship with him on “TODAY with Jenna Friends” in 2021. Maisy disclosed that he called them on a frequent basis.

He would call a different grandchild to see how they were doing every few days. He never let being president stop him from going to games or activities whenever he could, she continued.

Joe also discussed his love and bond with his grandchildren in a 2022 interview on the SmartLess podcast. Even though he was elected President of the United States, his grandchildren lovingly refer to him as “Pop.”

He affirmed that his strong position had not altered the closeness of the family, pointing out that they communicate virtually every day. Speaking about his grandchildren, Joe stated that spending time with them had been his “best recreation” since he took office.

“They’re crazy about me and I’m crazy about them,” the lawmaker, who turned 80 that year, revealed. I communicate with each and every one of my grandchildren every day.

Joe was diagnosed with cancer.

Joe was diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer that had spread to his bones, according to a statement released by his office on May 18, 2025.

Joe had been diagnosed with urinary symptoms two days prior, on May 16, 2025. A little lump on his prostate was then found by the doctors. The statement claims that the cancer has “metastasis to the bone” and is “characterised by a Gleason score of 9.”

The most aggressive types of prostate cancer are indicated by scores of nine and ten on the Gleason scale, which describes how these malignancies appear under a microscope. Joe has Stage 4 cancer, which indicates that it has spread.

The press release said, “While this represents a more aggressive form of the disease, the cancer appears to be hormone-sensitive which allows for effective management.” Additionally, the statement stated, “The president and his family are reviewing treatment options with his physicians.”

The close-knit group of people helping the former president get through this tough period will surely include his grandchildren. Here is everything we currently know about each of them.

Biden, Naomi

Joe was getting ready to become a great-grandfather in January 2025. In an interview, he joyfully announced that his 31-year-old eldest grandchild, Naomi, was set to undergo a C-section that month, saying, “I’m about to be a great-grandfather, Jesus God.”

Hunter Biden and Kathleen Buhle’s eldest daughter, Naomi, works as a lawyer. In 2022, she wed lawyer Peter Neal in a dramatic White House wedding. The pair lived in the White House and often travelled with Joe and Dr. Jill Biden.

On Election Day, Naomi made her pregnancy public for the first time. She has always stood by her grandfather, particularly since he decided not to run for president in 2024.

She usually stays out of the spotlight, but last year she was a witness in her father’s federal gun trial, which resulted in his conviction. Later, in December, the former president granted his son a pardon.

Biden, Finnegan

Finnegan, Naomi’s 24-year-old younger sister, has garnered media attention for her strong participation in college politics and student advocacy. She spearheaded a demonstration in high school that contested and ultimately altered the dress code at her school.

She was still passionate about activism by the time she started college. As the University of Pennsylvania transitioned to online instruction in March 2020 amid the COVID-19 pandemic, students encountered increasing demands on their time and energy.

Finnegan led a student petition to extend the pass/fail grade selection deadline. Finnegan was a rising senior in the College of Arts and Sciences (Class of 2021).

Many people thought the April 13 deadline was too early. She made the case on Change.org that students who were juggling erratic living arrangements, time zone differences, and health issues required greater flexibility. After more than 3,500 people signed her petition, the institution decided to extend the deadline until April 29, 2020.

In order to preserve unity, Finnegan purposefully avoided using rhetoric that might cause division throughout the campaign, particularly when it came to the contentious subject of required pass/fail grading. She reached student networks from every class year via social media and GroupMe.

The influence of the petition was reflected in the final policy change, even though the university took some time to respond. Finnegan reflected on the campaign and said he was proud of the unity among the students.

“You have to be the change you want to see,” she said, emphasising the value of initiative and grassroots involvement. Even anything as simple as draughting a petition. It’s not that difficult, and I hope everyone else can see that. However, you must do it. During a trying time, her actions promoted togetherness and gave students more influence.

That May, Naomi shared two pictures of Finnegan, tagged her, and congratulated her on her achievements. She tweeted, “BURSTING WITH PRIDE AND PERPETUALLY IN AWE OF MY FIRST LOVE AND LITTLE SIS @finneganbiden ilysmsmsmsm.”

Biden, Maisy

Their younger sister Maisy, 24, is succeeding in her own career, but Naomi and Finnegan have forged their own.

She identifies herself as Roberta Mabel “Maisy” Biden and explains that she is an artist on her website.

“Welcome to the digital JUNK DRAWER,” she says in the introduction. where my artwork will remain indefinitely… till my autopay stops working.”

“I use a variety of artistic mediums to showcase my creativity here. Come along on this journey with me as I discuss the backstories of each creation and display my one-of-a-kind creations. Together, let’s investigate the realm of art,” she continued.

She can be seen working on a vibrant painting in a YouTube video on her website. The video also features vintage footage of her exploring as a young child, dancing, asking questions, and interacting with an off-camera person.

In addition to her paintings, she also takes images from all around the world.

When Natalie, 20, appeared on “TODAY with Jenna Friends,” she said she was excited to watch what her grandparents will do as the US President and First Lady.

The fact that they would only be “a few miles” from her flat further delighted her.

Natalie revealed that she could steal free food from their kitchen because they were close by!

Joe introduced Natalie, the daughter of his late son Beau, to the stage during a 2024 campaign event in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

She had requested to attend the rally while she was a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania.

As Natalie gave her granddad a heartfelt embrace on stage, the audience cheered. Joe declared, “She’s the love of my life and the life of my love,” as she waved and grinned.

Before releasing her, he gave her a cheek kiss and mentioned that they had previously been there together.

Biden II, Robert “Hunter”

Joe and Jill, who frequently attend St. Joseph on the Brandywine in Wilmington, Delaware, went to their grandson Robert’s confirmation on a Sunday in 2021.

Around 1 p.m., the private family ceremony was held. Before Jill laid a bouquet at the family’s neighbouring grave, the Bidens talked and posed for pictures outside. Robert, the 19-year-old son of the late Beau and Hallie Biden, is nearly finished with his adolescence.

Roberts Navy

Hunter Biden and Lunden Roberts are the parents of six-year-old Joan Roberts, who was born in Arkansas in August 2018. In May 2019, Lunden, who had met Hunter while studying in Washington, D.C., filed a paternity action in Independence County, requesting health insurance and child support.

On November 9, 2019, a court-ordered DNA test revealed that Hunter was Navy’s father, despite Hunter’s initial denial of the relationship and refusal to publicly acknowledge the kid.

Hunter was not anticipated to contest the results, and they were filed as part of the court file that month, according to Lunden’s lawyers, Jennifer and Clint Lancaster.

Lunden’s legal team placed a strong emphasis on protecting privacy and preventing any harm to Joe Biden’s 2020 presidential candidacy. Additionally, they claimed that although Hunter continued to publicly reject the relationship in interviews, he had privately confessed paternity.

Settlement talks were then in progress, and a court hearing was slated for December 2019.

Biden, Beau Jr.

Hunter and his wife, Melissa Cohen, honoured the former’s late brother by naming their newborn baby Beau Jr. in January 2021. Prior to his inauguration, transition authorities identified “Beau Biden” as one of the people travelling with President-elect Joe from Delaware to Washington, D.C.

Hunter, who was 50 at the time, was spotted holding his newborn son, who was born in late March 2020, during the event on January 20. In May 2019, Hunter and Melissa tied the knot. Hunter’s fourth kid is four years old; he and his ex-wife, Kathleen, whom he divorced in 2017, had three girls together.

Joe was devastated by Beau Sr.’s death in May 2015 at the age of 46, and as a result, he decided not to run in 2016. From 2007 until his death from brain cancer, Joe’s oldest son was Delaware’s attorney general. Joe’s perspective on military sacrifice was influenced by his time serving in Iraq with the Army National Guard.

Joe talked passionately about Beau’s service during a recent visit to Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery, which affected his choice not to run for president in 2016.

The occasion underlined the Biden family’s strong religious and memorial links. Joe has frequently mentioned his Catholic faith as a source of support during difficult times. His wife had pinned the following quotation to his mirror, he said: “Faith sees best in the dark.”

Through his presence at significant events and a picture on the Resolute Desk, Beau’s memory has persisted throughout Joe’s administration.

A netizen wrote, “Timeline cleanser,” after seeing a picture of Joe holding his youngest grandson. Joe with ‘Beau’ Biden Jr., his youngest grandson. Is he the most adorable thing ever? He was referred to as “precious.”

Someone else said, “He’s adorable! Joe truly is a family man.

The accomplishments and lifestyles of Joe Biden’s grandkids carry on his legacy. His family’s strength continues to be his steadfast support as he encounters new difficulties.

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Woman with 3 Kids

A millionaire judges a mother-of-three and criticizes her for flying business class, but when the pilot announces their arrival with a special announcement for the woman, all his complaints are washed away.

“Ugh! You can’t be serious! Are you really making her sit here?! Miss, you better do something about it!” Louis Newman grumbled as he noticed a mother-of-three approaching his adjacent seats with the assistance of a stewardess.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the stewardess replied gently, showing him the tickets. “These seats have been assigned to Mrs. Debbie Brown and her children, and we can’t do anything about it. I’d request you to kindly cooperate with us.”

“You don’t understand, Miss! I have a crucial meeting with foreign investors. Her children will keep chit-chatting and making noises, and I cannot afford to lose this deal!”

“Sir….” The stewardess had just started speaking when Debbie interrupted her. “It’s all right. I can sit somewhere else if the other passengers are willing to swap seats with my children and me. That isn’t an issue for me.”

“Not at all, ma’am!” the stewardess shot back. “You’re sitting here because you paid for it, and you have the right to be here! It makes no difference whether someone likes it or not, and sir,” she turned to Louis, “I’d appreciate it if you could be patient until the flight is over.”

Millionaire businessman Louis Newman was annoyed that the stewardess had refused his request, but what irritated him even more was that he was forced to sit next to a woman who seemed not to belong to the business class, wearing the cheapest clothes on the flight.

He put on his AirPods to avoid being forced into conversation with the woman and turned his face away as she sat beside him, having helped her children secure themselves tightly to their seats.

Soon, the boarding process was completed, with passengers settling into their assigned seats, and the flight took off. It was the first time Debbie and her children were flying business class, so as the flight left the runway for the skies, the children began chirping in joy. “Mom!” cried her daughter Stacey. “Look, we’re finally flying! Yay!”

Some passengers on the plane turned to look at Stacey and smiled at her innocence, but Louis had a scornful expression on his face. “Listen,” he said as he faced Debbie. “Could you please ask your children to be quiet? Because I missed my previous flight, I’m joining a meeting from here. I don’t want any kind of disruption.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie politely replied as she motioned for the children to remain quiet. Louis’s meeting lasted almost the entire flight, and as he spoke, Debbie realized he was a businessman who was mainly into the fabrics industry, as she could see he’d mentioned fabrics frequently and had a handbook with designs.

When Louis’s meeting was finished, Debbie approached him and asked, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Louis didn’t want to talk to her, but since his meeting had gone well and the investors had agreed to the deal, he was quite pleased and let go of his arrogance. “Umm…Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

“I noticed you had a handbook with fabric samples and designs. Do you work in the clothing industry?”

“Uhhh…yeah, you could say that. I own a clothing company in New York. We just closed a deal. I hadn’t really hoped it would work, but it did.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Congratulations! Actually, I run a small boutique in Texas. It’s more of a family affair. It was started by my in-laws in New York. We recently opened a unit in Texas. I was really impressed with the designs you were presenting.”

Louis gave her a sarcastic laugh. “Thanks, lady! But the designs that my company makes are not like some local or family boutique thing; we hire some of the best designers, and we just cracked a deal with the best designing company in the world! A BOUTIQUE, SERIOUSLY?!” He muttered loudly enough while smirking to mock Debbie.

“Oh, well,” Debbie felt humiliated by his comment, but she maintained her composure. “I – I understand. It must be something really huge for you.”

“Something huge?” Louis smirked, shaking his head. “A poor woman like you would never understand what it means, but it was a million-dollar deal! Let me ask you this again,” he said after pausing for a brief while. “I mean, I saw your tickets and everything. I know you’re here flying business class with us, but trust me, you don’t look like someone who deserves to be here! Maybe try economy the next time and look for people who own boutiques like you?”

Debbie’s patience was wearing thin at this point. “Listen, sir,” she said sternly. “I understand; it’s my first time flying in business class, and I had trouble figuring out the check-in process and everything, but don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? My husband is on the flight with us, but…”

Before Debbie could finish her sentence, an announcement over the intercom signaled their arrival at JFK. However, rather than turning off the intercom after his announcement, the pilot, Captain Tyler Brown, had something more to say.

“Also I would like to thank every passenger on this flight, especially my wife Debbie Brown, who is flying with us today. Debbie, honey, I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.”

Louis’s heart skipped a beat and his face flushed with embarrassment when he realized Debbie’s husband was a pilot on the flight.

“This is my first time flying an A-class flight, and I was nervous. Thank you to my wife, who assured me that everything would be fine and decided to accompany me despite her fear of flying in order to put my mind at ease.

Today is my first day back at work after a long period of unemployment. My wife and I have never had it easy, and we’ve seen a lot of struggles in our lives, but I’ve never heard Debbie complain about her situation. So, on this day, which also happens to be the day we first met, which I believe my wife has forgotten, I’d like to propose to her again on this flight. DEBBIE, I LOVE YOU, HONEY!”

Tyler broke the protocol and came out of the pilot’s cabin at this point, proposing to Debbie with a ring on his knees. “Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me again, Mrs. Debbie Brown?”

Everyone on the plane was now fixated on Debbie and her children, who appeared to be the most beautiful family ever. As Debbie nodded yes, teary-eyed, the passengers were all applauding, but Louis was standing there perplexed and embarrassed. But Debbie was not going to let him get away with it. She approached Louis before exiting the plane and said, “A materialistic man like you, who only thinks about money, would never understand how it feels to have a loved one around you. And yes, my husband and I live a humble life, but we are very proud of it!

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