3 Years after Son’s Death, Lady Opens Door on Halloween & Sees Kids in Costumes She Sewed for Him – Story of the Day

A bereaved mother is startled when kids arrive on her doorstep trick-or-treating in her dead son’s Halloween costumes. She immediately checks his room and is in for a tear-jerking surprise.

“Please give it a thought, Mrs. Brown. You cannot always escape this time of the year. You have to overcome it, and this is the only way out. You need to celebrate Halloween or at least decorate your house,” the psychologist told Rosemary, 37.

Rosemary’s eyes brimmed with tears as she pressed her chin on her knuckles. She was nervous. “Will I be able to do it? Will it help me not think about what happened to my son on that Halloween?” she thought.

Rosemary shyly smiled and got up to leave the clinic. She headed to the market to buy décor. Though she did not feel like celebrating the holiday, she followed the doctor’s advice.

It had been three years since Rosemary and her son Dave carved fleshy pumpkins into glowering jack-o’-lanterns. It had been three hellish years since Rosemary lost Dave on the morning of Halloween, and his death still kept haunting her…

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Lucas, Rosemary’s husband, was surprised when he came home on All Hallows Eve. He had been out of town on a business trip and was astonished when he saw his house fully decorated with the Halloween spirit.

“Rose, hey…hey…” he exclaimed as he entered the door, holding big boxes of stuff he’d shopped from the city. “I’m so happy you’re doing this. I’m sure our son would be happy to see you smiling after a very long time.”

Lucas kissed Rosemary before leaving to freshen up. Tears rolled down Rosemary’s face as she fixed the light into the jack-o’-lantern. It was Dave’s favorite part of the festival. He always placed bets with his friends about who had the funkiest jack-o’-lantern.

Rosemary’s house that day looked so beautiful and all set for a perfect Halloween. It caught everyone’s eye, especially one gang of kids on the street.

Those we love do not truly leave us. There are certain things death can never touch.

They couldn’t help but think Rosemary’s decorated house was a signal inviting them over for a trick-or-treat. They had never visited Rosemary’s house on Halloween before, so seeing her house ready for the holiday tempted them.

The kids marched to Rosemary’s house in costumes that would go on to make the bereaving mother burst into tears.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Just as Rosemary readied the table for dinner and was wiping the crockery, she heard a loud knock on the door. She answered the door and turned pale with shock seeing a group of happy little children chiming, “Trick or treat!”

Rosemary could not believe her eyes. She recognized the costumes the kids were wearing. She had exclusively sewn them for Dave three years ago for Halloween, but he never got to wear them. He died in an accident while crossing the road the morning of All Hallows Eve.

Rosemary was shaken. She clasped the door and gaped at the children from head to toe.

“That embroidery… those buttons and skeleton paintings on the shirt… Dave asked me to do a patchwork resembling cobwebs on his witch hat… And these pumpkin buttons… ‘D’ for Dave… I sewed them myself. What is going on? How did they get my son’s Halloween costumes from his room?” Rosemary thought.

“It cannot be.”

Rosemary quickly gave the kids some candies and ran to her son’s room. She pulled out a trunk from under the bed and opened it. Dave’s Halloween costumes were not there.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Rosemary was startled. She started sweating and sat on the floor, crying. “Who took them? Who gave my Dave’s clothes to those kids?”

She looked up and saw the state of her late son’s room. It looked different and empty. Almost all his items were missing, including his favorite shoe collection, posters, and even superhero toys. Rosemary peeped into his wardrobe and only found empty hangers.

Everything was intact when she checked Dave’s room a month ago. She never gave away a thing there because she wanted to preserve everything in memory of her dead son. So seeing Dave’s room in a near-empty state puzzled her. Rosemary could not understand what was going on and immediately called Lucas.

“Everything is missing. I see nothing here that belonged to our son. Darling, what’s going on? Who took Dave’s things from here?”

That’s when Rosemary sensed a weird hesitation on Lucas’ face. He could not look her in the eye and simply walked away.

“Lucas, what’s going on? Why aren’t you saying anything? Where are my son’s things? And why are those kids wearing his Halloween costumes?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Rosemary followed Lucas to the kitchen where she found him staring at the plain wall.

“Darling, what’s going on? Why are you silent? I’m going crazy. Can someone please tell me what’s happening in this house?”

Lucas turned around, tears streaming down his face. He hugged Rosemary and made a confession.

“Sweetie, I know how much Dave means to us even now. But I could not see you destroyed like this,” he began.

“Once, I visited the shelter at the end of this street with my friend. The little boys there reminded me of our son. So I gave away all his stuff to them. Whenever I see those kids in our son’s shirt, pants, or even shoes, I see Dave, not some strange random kid.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Rosemary burst into tears. “So, were those kids who came trick or treating to our house from the shelter?”

“Yes, they are! On my way home this evening, I saw them wearing the costumes you’d made for Dave. I was so happy and invited them to our home for some candies, hoping you would be happy to see them.”

Rosemary threw herself into Lucas’s arms and began to cry.

“Thank you so much, darling. You have no idea what you did today!”

“I did?” Lucas was puzzled, seeing a strange glow in his wife’s eyes.

“Yes! One of those little boys looked just like our son Dave. I think this is what destiny wanted us to do…to adopt him and bring him home as our son!”

Lucas and Rosemary were so delighted, they quickly began the paperwork to adopt Tom, the little boy who reminded Rosemary of the late Dave. They brought him home six months later.

Ever since Tom arrived, Rosemary was never sad again. She, Lucas, and Tom lived a life of dreams and happiness together. They also helped the other children in the shelter find loving homes.

A year later…again on Halloween…

“Mama, look…my jack-o’-lantern…you like it?” Tom asked Rosemary, showing a gorgeous jack-o’-lantern he’d made. Rosemary shed tears of joy as she realized Tom was none but a gift her late son Dave had sent from heaven.

“It’s beautiful, darling! It reminds me of someone dear to me!” she cried and hugged the boy as they got ready for the evening.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

What can we learn from this story?

  • Those we love do not truly leave us. There are certain things death can never touch. After losing her son Dave, Rosemary was devastated. She had never celebrated Halloween for three years since the day marked her beloved son’s death. However, she would later learn that her son wasn’t truly gone when she meets a young boy who resembles Dave and becomes part of their family.
  • Embrace your grief and move on. No sorrow is permanent unless you choose to stick to it. It took Rosemary three years to embrace her grief and move on from her son’s loss. Although she was never entirely out of it, she sought solace in her adopted son Tom.

A Wealthy Man Pretended to Be a Waiter and Invited a Woman on a Date to the Restaurant He Owns

When wealthy restaurateur Nate meets down-to-earth Beth at a gas station, her charm catches him off guard. Intrigued but wary from past heartbreak, Nate invites her on a date with a twist. Will his charade of being a waiter at a restaurant he owns reveal her true intentions?

Neon paint splatters covered my clothes, and I didn’t realize how ridiculous I looked until I pulled up to the gas station. I stepped inside, feeling sore and a little dazed from an intense paintball match, and that’s when I saw her.

The cashier.

A cashier at a gas station | Source: Midjourney

A cashier at a gas station | Source: Midjourney

Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few wisps escaping around her face. When she noticed me and smiled, I swear my heart somersaulted.

“If the Terminator walked in right now,” she teased, “he definitely wouldn’t ask for your clothes.”

I blinked. For a second, I didn’t know whether to laugh or melt into the floor.

“I… I was just playing paintball,” I replied sheepishly. My cheeks flamed up in what I could only hope wasn’t an obvious blush.

A shy man | Source: Midjourney

A shy man | Source: Midjourney

She grinned wider, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Really? That was my first guess.” She looked me up and down, making a show of inspecting the damage the paint had done to my clothes. “Did you win, or…?”

“Uh, yeah. My team won.” I shrugged, trying to appear casual, though it was hard to feel composed under her playful gaze.

“Well, congrats, soldier. Need a victory snack?” She winked at me and nodded at the candy shelf, her tone still dripping with mock seriousness.

A woman working as a gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

A woman working as a gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t help but laugh. This woman — Beth, her name tag read — was a breath of fresh air. I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew, I blurted out, “Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?”

She blinked, the smile fading slightly as surprise flickered in her eyes. For a moment, I feared I’d misread the whole thing. But then she tilted her head and her grin returned to full force.

“Alright. Sure… just no paintball, okay?”

A grinning gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

A grinning gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

We exchanged numbers, and I walked out of that gas station with a date to look forward to. I was excited, but it didn’t take long for the anxiety to set in.

I’ve been burned too many times before. Women were more interested in the idea of Nate, the wealthy restaurateur than in Nate, the man who liked obscure indie bands and reading Manga. So, I devised a little test. Maybe it was crazy, but I had to know.

I invited Beth to my upscale Italian restaurant downtown. It was the crown jewel of my empire, and would now also be the stage on which I’d expose Beth’s true intentions.

The interior of an upmarket restaurant | Source: Midjourney

The interior of an upmarket restaurant | Source: Midjourney

I watched from across the room as Beth entered in a simple red dress that made her look effortlessly beautiful. The staff already knew the plan, so I hurried over to greet her, my heart pounding.

“Hey,” I said, guiding her to a corner table. “I’m so glad you came. I saved us the best table.”

Beth smiled, glancing around. “Oh? You come here so often you know which table is the best?”

A woman speaking to her male companion | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to her male companion | Source: Midjourney

I chuckled as I sat across from her, fidgeting with the napkin. “Yeah, I work here. Just finished my shift, actually.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, but her trademark grin quickly replaced it. “Really? I’ve always wanted to be a waitress. Maybe I’ll jump in for a shift after dinner.”

I laughed nervously, watching her reaction closely. “I don’t recommend it. The pay’s awful, and the hours? Brutal.”

As if on cue, one of my waiters approached with menus, winking subtly at me.

A man seated at a table with his date | Source: Midjourney

A man seated at a table with his date | Source: Midjourney

“Good to see you, Nate. Still recovering from that lunch rush?” he asked, playing his part perfectly.

“Yeah, barely survived,” I said with a tight smile.

Dinner arrived, and soon we were talking and laughing like old friends. She told me about her love of books, and how she used to want to write, but ended up working at the gas station to help her mom out.

She was funny and quick-witted. Her humor caught me off guard at every turn and I was thoroughly charmed by her.

A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

Being with her felt… effortless.

As dessert approached, my restaurant manager, Tom, came over, looking furious. Of course, it was all part of the act, but Beth didn’t know that.

“Nate!” Tom snapped, glaring at me. “You skipped out on the last 15 minutes of your shift. What the hell? Get back to the kitchen and wash the dishes, or you’re fired!

Beth’s eyes went wide, and I could see the shock register.

A wide-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

A wide-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

Beth stood, her face softening with concern. “Hey, it’s okay. If you need to go, go. We can always—”

“I’m really sorry,” I cut in, feeling the weight of the lie. “I’ll have to finish up back there. I’ll, uh, text you later?”

“Sure,” she replied with a wink.

And with that, I excused myself, heading toward the kitchen, my mind racing. I needed time to think and to plan my next move, but I had barely been back there for two minutes when the kitchen door creaked open.

A staff entrance in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Pexels

A staff entrance in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Pexels

Beth slipped in, her face glowing with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“You haven’t started yet?” she teased, rolling up her sleeves. “Come on. Let’s wash these dishes together and then go for a walk on the pier.”

I stared at her, completely floored. How did I get so lucky? A flood of emotions swept over me. It was clear now that Beth really did like me, enough to wash a mountain of dirty dishes so we could continue our date at the pier… how was I going to tell her this was all a test?

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

The dishes clinked together as we scrubbed side by side, our elbows occasionally bumping. Guilt stabbed at me each time Beth smiled at me like this was the most natural thing in the world — standing in the back of a high-end restaurant, washing dishes after a first date.

I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, wondering how someone like her could be so unaffected by everything.

After we finished, Beth wiped her hands on her dress, completely unfazed by the water spots. She looked at me with a playful gleam in her eyes.

A smiling woman in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“Well, I can’t say I expected to end up elbow-deep in suds tonight, but it wasn’t half bad. So, what now? Are we walking to the pier, or are you making me clean the kitchen, too?”

I chuckled, but the sound caught in my throat. I had to come clean with her. It was now or never.

“Beth, I have to tell you something,” I said, my voice a little too serious for the moment.

She tilted her head, her smile fading just a bit. “Okay…?”

A woman smiling uncertainly | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling uncertainly | Source: Midjourney

I took a breath, the truth ready to burst out of me. “I’m not a waiter. Well, I used to be, but not anymore. I’m actually the owner of this place. I own this restaurant and two others in the city.”

Beth blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait… what?”

“The whole thing tonight was a setup,” I admitted, guilt creeping into my voice. “I wanted to see if you liked me for who I am, not for the money or the restaurant. I know it’s crazy, but I’ve been burned before, and didn’t want to risk it again.”

A guilty man | Source: Midjourney

A guilty man | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, Beth just stood there, her expression unreadable. My heart pounded in my chest as the silence stretched on. Then, she crossed her arms and gave me a long, searching look.

“So, let me get this straight,” she finally said, her tone carefully neutral. “You lied to me all night because you thought I might be… what? A gold digger?”

I winced. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I’ve had bad experiences. But I like you so much… I just didn’t want to mess this up.”

Her gaze softened a little, but there was still a hurt flicker in her eyes.

A woman in a kitchen with a hurt expression | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a kitchen with a hurt expression | Source: Midjourney

“So, you were testing me.”

“I know it sounds terrible, and it is,” I said quickly, stepping closer. “But I had to be sure you liked me for me.”

Beth stood quietly for a moment, processing. Then she shook her head with a small, incredulous laugh.

“So… did I pass your test?”

I nodded earnestly, feeling the weight of the night lift off my shoulders. “With flying colors.”

A serious man | Source: Midjourney

A serious man | Source: Midjourney

She smiled back, and her playfulness quickly returned. “Oh, and for the record — your restaurant’s food isn’t that great. Next time, we’re going somewhere else, somewhere we won’t end up washing dishes, okay?”

I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty kitchen. “You got it.”

Here’s another story: At a family outing, my mother-in-law switched my mild chicken for an extra-spicy option, leaving me humiliated in a crowded restaurant. As my mouth burned and Linda smirked, I decided to plan a dinner that would teach her a lesson she’d never forget!

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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