Mystery Egg Thrower at My Husband’s Grave Unveiled – What I Saw Shattered Me

Someone Kept Throwing Eggs at My Husband’s Gravestone – One Day, I Saw Who It Was, and It Nearly Destroyed My Life

Until I saw raw eggs smashed against his gravestone, I went to my husband’s grave every Sunday to feel connected to him. I initially believed it to be a mean joke, but when I caught the perpetrator in the act, I was devastated to learn that it was someone I trusted above all others.

A year ago, my husband, Owen, passed away. It came as a shock. No notice, no time to get ready. He was suddenly taken from me by a heart attack. They were gone in an instant after 25 years of dating.

I felt as though I was walking through fog for months. Everything was painful. For the sake of our children, I attempted to maintain my composure, but on the inside, I was breaking. I used to visit his tomb every Sunday. It turned into a ritual for me to feel intimate with him.

It was quiet at the graveyard. Keep quiet. Owen, me, and the weekly bouquet of flowers I brought. I could almost breathe there. However, something changed three months ago.

I believed I was seeing things the first time. Eggshells. The base of Owen’s gravestone was covered in yellow yolk.

“Why would anyone do this?” I squatted down to wipe it while whispering to myself. I kept checking behind me, wondering whether it was a terrible hoax by some kids.

I thought it would just need to be cleaned once. However, two weeks later, it occurred once more. There were at least six eggs this time. Dripping down the stone, broken. I cleaned it once again, but it made my heart ache.

I attempted to seek assistance from the cemetery staff.

I informed the man behind the desk that there had been some vandalism at my husband’s cemetery. He hardly looked up, clearly bored.

He continued, “You can file a report,” and slid a clipboard in my direction.

“Is that all? You don’t have cameras, do you? I inquired.

He gave a headshake. “Not in the more recent parts. I apologize.

Even though I knew it wouldn’t help, I filed the report nevertheless.

I sobbed when I discovered eggs for the third time. I made no effort to conceal it. The sense that Owen was being singled out, even in death, was more disturbing than the filth.

“What do you want from him?” I yelled into the deserted graveyard. I heard my voice echoing back.

The night before his death anniversary, I was unable to sleep. I couldn’t get Owen out of my head. I could sense how he used to hold my hand as we strolled and hear his giggle.

I was at my breaking point by five in the morning. After grabbing my coat, I made the decision to visit the cemetery. The world seemed to be motionless, and the sun had not yet risen.

I came to a halt when I was approaching his tomb.

Eggshells. New ones, all over the place. A figure, too.

They had something in their hands as they stood near the stone. An egg. My breath caught in my throat as I froze. The sound of the egg breaking against the stone was piercing in the still morning air.

“Hey!” My voice trembled as I screamed. “What are you doing?”

The person tensed but remained motionless. I hurried toward them, my heart racing.

My breath caught as they slowly turned.

“Madison?” Pale and wide-eyed, my sister’s face gazed back at me. Her fingers were shaking, and she was still holding an egg.

Her voice was sharp and low as she said, “Why are you here?”

“You!” I lost my temper. “You’ve been the one doing this!”

She twisted her face. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I urged, taking a step forward.

Bitterly, she laughed. “Don’t you think he was flawless? The caring father, the devoted husband. You were deceived by that man for years.

“What are you talking about?” My voice broke.

Madison’s gaze pierced my own. “There was an affair between us. Emma, five years. Five years. He assured me of everything, including a future and money. But I got nothing when he passed away. Not a single penny. It was all for you and your beloved children.

The ground seemed to have vanished beneath me.

“No,” I muttered. “You’re lying.”

She shot back, “Am I?” “How about looking into his will? You’ll see.

With trembling hands, I gazed at her. “How did you accomplish this? To me? To him?

Her tone became icy. “You have no right to condemn me. He told us both lies. He broke the pledges he made.

I was unable to talk. The words refused to flow.

Madison allowed the egg to fall to the floor. Emma, you’ve always had it everything. The ideal spouse, the ideal life. He wasn’t flawless, after all.

Her words reverberated in my ears as I watched her turn and leave.

My thoughts were racing as I sat on the soggy earth near Owen’s tomb. Madison’s remarks resembled sharp blades. “There was an affair between us. Five years. How could she have spoken such a disgusting thing? How could she say that I had been deceived in that way by the man I had trusted, loved, and created a life with?

However, suspicions began to surface.

Owen’s frequent last-minute business excursions, often with a hazy justification, sprang to mind. “It’s work, Em,” he would remark, grinning at me with ease. I had never asked him any questions. Why would I? He was my spouse.

The phone calls came next. Sometimes he would go outside and say it was “just a client,” but his voice was hushed and low.

Madison, too. She and Owen had always been close. Too near? She used to chuckle at his jokes, even the ones that annoyed me, and I recalled that. When she believed no one was looking, she would pat his arm.

I refused to believe it and shook my head.

As I gazed at Owen’s name on the gravestone, my chest hurt. “Did you lie to me?” I muttered. “Did I ever really know you?”

Madison stormed out, hardly visible to my eyes. I didn’t call after her, and she didn’t turn around. I spent a considerable amount of time near the tomb, using my shaking hands to scrub away the yolk and shells. I scrubbed it till the smooth stone was all that was left.

Carly, Madison’s daughter, and I met up at the grocery store the following afternoon. She appeared shocked to see me and was carrying a basket of veggies.

She smiled and replied, “Aunt Emma,” “How are you?”

I paused. “I’ve been better.”

Her grin dimmed. “Isn’t it about the grave? Mom told me what had occurred.

I took a deep breath. “Carly, did you know… about your mom and Owen?”

She scowled, her expression bewildered. “Know what?”

I uttered, “She said they… had an affair,” in a voice that was almost audible.

Carly’s eyes became wide with surprise. “What? No. I never heard her say anything like that.

According to her, it lasted for five years. He promised to give her money, but—” I stopped when my voice cracked.

Carly’s face changed from one of bewilderment to one of incredulity. “Hold on. You heard that from Mom? She has never spoken about having an affair. Never. That really doesn’t seem like Uncle Owen at all, Aunt Emma.

I gazed at her. “Are you certain? She looked so… sure. He lied to us both, she claimed.

Carly let out a sigh. “Aunt Emma, Mom has been upset for years. You are aware of that. She always claimed that you had it all: stability, a decent husband, and the ideal family. It seems as though she has been given the short end of the stick.

“She’s jealous?” I asked with a twinge of regret.

Carly gave a nod. “Yes, but it’s unfair. She sees it that way. However, I never observed any interaction between her and Uncle Owen. Not once. And I believe I would have noticed if something had been happening.”

I bit my lip. “You’re sure?”

Carly gave a strong nod. “Of course. Mom may be saying this to make you feel worse. It wouldn’t surprise me, as much as I hate to say it.

I looked at her, not knowing if I should be relieved or more perplexed.

My arm was touched by Carly. “You loved Uncle Owen, didn’t you?”

My throat tightened as I nodded.

“Then hold onto that,” she murmured very softly. “Don’t let Mom take that away from you.”

I sat in my living room later that night and gazed at an old picture of Owen and me. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders and he was grinning. We appeared so content.

Madison might have been lying. Perhaps she wasn’t. I would never be certain. But I couldn’t allow my memories of Owen to be ruined by her resentment.

I considered how much our children loved their father. Madison was attempting to portray him as someone else, but they deserved to remember him as the father who loved them.

I wiped a tear from my eye and inhaled deeply.

“Goodbye, Madison,” I said in a low voice. “You’re not taking him from me.”

I returned to the cemetery on Sunday of the next week. I placed the fresh flowers I had brought by Owen’s grave. I felt calm for the first time in months as the air was silent and still.

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