My own children destroyed my house right before my eyes, without even warning me: I sat in front of the house and cried bitterly, thinking that in my old age I would end up on the street… but suddenly, something unexpected happened 

I was working in my garden when I heard a strange noise, a deep rumbling sound. The ground seemed to shake under my feet. I looked up — and froze. A huge bulldozer had entered my yard. Its bucket slowly rose, and a second later it came crashing down on the wall of my house with a deafening bang.

— My God… what are you doing?! — I screamed, running toward the gate.

The house I had lived in all my life was collapsing before my eyes. Every falling brick felt like a stab in my heart. My husband and I had built that house with our own hands — board by board, stone by stone. My children had grown up there; my whole life had taken place there.

I ran into the yard, shouting as loud as I could to be heard over the noise of the machine:
— Stop! That’s my house! Don’t touch it!

The driver leaned out of the cab and shouted irritably:
— Sorry, grandma, but I have my orders. The house belongs to your eldest son. He told us to demolish it.

— What are you saying?.. — I gasped. — This must be a mistake! I live here! Where am I supposed to go now? On the street?!

— Not our problem, — the driver replied coldly. — Our job is to tear it down.

I collapsed to the ground, powerless. Dust rose into the air, pieces of brick flew everywhere. No one paid attention to me. My house was disappearing, turning into a pile of rubble.

I sat on the ground with my face buried in my hands and cried. It felt like my entire life was crumbling along with the house.
“My own children… — I thought through my tears. — How could you do this to me? For the land? For money?”

But at that very moment, something shocking happened  To be continued in the first comment 

Right then, when I had almost lost faith in human kindness, a car stopped at the gate. My son stepped out — the one I thought was responsible for this nightmare…

— How could you, my son?! — I cried, pounding my fists against his chest. — I raised you, fed you, stayed up nights for you, and you… you destroyed my house, my life!

He stood silently, eyes lowered. I couldn’t stop — the words poured out between tears and pain.
— You threw me out on the street! Do you want me to die under a fence?! What did I ever do to you, my children?..

But suddenly, he lifted his head, stepped closer, and said softly:
— Mom… please, calm down. You’ve got it all wrong.

I was stunned.

— What do you mean, wrong? I saw it with my own eyes! The house is gone!

— Yes, — he nodded, — the old house is gone… because it had become dangerous. We thought for a long time about how to tell you, but we knew you’d never agree. So we decided to do it quickly.

He reached out his hand and pointed behind him. Behind the excavator, among the piles of bricks and dust, I saw something unexpected: a new, beautiful brick house — bright walls, a red roof, new windows.

— This is our home now, Mom, — he said, smiling through his tears. — We built it right here, on the same land. Everything inside is ready — furniture, kitchen, flowers on the windowsill. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier… We wanted to surprise you.

I stood frozen. My heart was racing, and tears still rolled down my cheeks — but now they were different: warm, soft, filled with love and gratitude.