A seven-year-old boy came to his mother’s grave every day and cried for a long time, but then people found out that the woman buried there was not his mother 

On the outskirts of a small town, behind the old wrought-iron gates of the city cemetery, passersby began to notice the same boy more and more often. Every day, exactly at three in the afternoon, he appeared — thin, wearing a worn jacket unsuitable for the season. He walked confidently, as if he knew the way by heart, avoided other graves, and stopped at one — which had a photo of a young woman on it.

The boy was about seven years old. He knelt down, stroked the cold marble, and began to speak. Sometimes in a whisper, sometimes breaking into a cry.

— Mom… mom, I came again. Do you hear me?.. I’m cold. I’m scared. Nobody loves me there…

And then:

— Why did you leave?.. I can’t be alone anymore… Why didn’t you wait?..

The old lady who often sold flowers at the entrance cried when she heard him. The caretaker tried to call him, but the boy ran away without saying a word.

Everyone was sure: that was his mother, and he was an orphan, left with a father who apparently did not take good care of him.

One evening, when it was drizzling and the boy came anyway, soaked to the bone, the caretaker could no longer bear it. He called the police and child protective services.

— He’s alone every day… I can’t watch him cry here anymore… Who is responsible for him? Where is his father?..

The police arrived quickly. The boy stood by the grave, pressing his cheek to the stone slab. He did not resist. He just stared silently at one spot. When they tried to take him away, he suddenly shouted:

— No! Don’t take me! I have to tell her that today I found a toy! That I miss her! She’s waiting for me! I promised to come!..

— Who is she? — a woman from child services gently asked.

— Mom… my mom…

But then the police officer learned the terrible truth about the boy: in fact, the woman buried there was not his mother  Continued in the first comment 

The boy had no mother. At least not the one whose grave he visited. In fact, he had lived in an orphanage since he was three years old. His real mother had abandoned him right after birth, and his father is unknown.

The woman he visited every day was a volunteer who often visited the orphanage, talked at length with the boy, brought him books, and hugged him.

She was the one who filed the papers for his adoption. The boy knew about it — for the first time, he believed that someone could love him. That he would have a home.

But two days before the papers were to be signed, the woman died in a car accident. The boy was told that she “could no longer come.”

The boy found out where she was buried and started running away from the orphanage every day — just to tell her how much he missed her.

He needed a mother.