For months, I couldn’t understand why my husband’s gravestone kept getting pelted with eggs.
At first, I thought it was random vandalism, but it happened repeatedly, each time worse than before. Frustrated and confused, I couldn’t imagine who would target someone so beloved.
One night, after cleaning the mess again, I decided to stay near the cemetery to catch whoever was responsible. The stillness of the night heightened my unease. At midnight, I saw someone approaching. My heart raced when I recognized the figure—it was Tom’s brother, Greg.
I was shocked. Why would Greg disrespect his own brother’s grave? Frozen in disbelief, I watched him stand over the headstone, tears streaming as he muttered to himself. Just as he raised his arm to throw another egg, I confronted him.
Greg froze, guilt etched on his face, and tearfully confessed. Struggling with grief and unresolved guilt, he felt responsible for Tom’s death. His pain had driven him to lash out at the very memory he cherished most.
