11/28/2025
I was still in my mourning suit and didn’t understand what was happening to me after my wife’s death. After her funeral, I came home and was met with an even bigger surprise. Fifteen motorcyclists I didn’t know were standing in my house, warmly interacting with my son. I approached them—they expressed their deep condolences, and I asked everyone who they were and what they were doing in my house during this difficult time for me. At first, I wanted to shout and drive them out, but what I saw stopped me. Three of them were painting the living room walls, two were fixing the veranda, and one was covering holes in the roof. My son was sitting at the kitchen table. “Dad… forgive me,” he whispered calmly. 😥😥 “What happened, son? What should I forgive you for?” “They broke into the apartment while you were gone, and I couldn’t do anything. It seemed like they were preparing something dangerous, but when I learned the truth, it shocked me even more.” Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All comments 👇