()Grandma took in a young guy who had nowhere to crash. But in the middle of the night, she caught him sneaking toward her bed and FROZE when she saw what he started doing…

I thought you were already asleep and didn’t want to wake you.” Margaret Anne was stunned by his honesty, his genuine care for her. This worn icon was the most precious thing he had left, a memento of the last family member in his life.

He needed that prayer and icon under his pillow himself. Yet he had brought it to Margaret, a stranger he’d known for barely half a day. He had given her the most valuable thing he owned.

Margaret couldn’t hold back. She got out of bed, walked over, and hugged Ethan. She cried. But these tears were of heartfelt gratitude and love for this young man who had filled her emptiness, who had become her son so simply and forever, without any paperwork or formalities—just her son, for whom she would strive to be the most caring and loving mother.

That night, for the first time in a long while, she dreamed again, a vivid, colorful dream. She saw her husband and son once more. They stood together, embracing, smiling at her.

But this time, their smiles were different, as if they were approving, praising, and rejoicing for her. Her husband nodded firmly, and her son raised his hand in a farewell gesture, just as before. Only now, Margaret was certain they had said their final goodbye.

Margaret woke with tears on her face. But she was smiling, as if the sun had risen in her life again. She felt light and at peace.

She reached under her pillow and pulled out the small, laminated icon of Our Lady of the Gate of Dawn. She looked at it with gratitude, placed it back on the pillow, and quietly hurried to the kitchen.

Oh, no eggs—they’d run out. Well, then, oatmeal for breakfast today. Tomorrow morning, she’d make Ethan pancakes and open that jar of gooseberry jam…

They had breakfast, and then Margaret opened the closet. They weren’t wealthy, but they had everything they needed, and her son had all the trendy things. “Ethan, come here, we’re going to have a fitting session.”

Ethan was shy again. He looked at her son’s clothes with curiosity, even touching some items cautiously. He’d never had things like these.

Not only was wearing them daunting, but even touching them felt intimidating. Some things fit, but Margaret set a few items aside. She saw how much Ethan liked them, though they were slightly too big.

No matter—she was handy with a needle and could hem them. Ethan tried on a tracksuit her son had recently bought and loved. Margaret held her breath—it was as if her son had appeared in the room, just a bit thinner.

They’d manage, everything would be alright. “Ethan, do you work?” “Yeah, I got a job as a janitor.” “A janitor? What’s your training?” “They taught us at the foster home—I’m a machinist, but with that kind of education, no one hires me.

They say I have no experience, that I don’t know anything.” “Ethan, you need to keep learning. Being a janitor isn’t a job for a young man. I’ll go talk to some people I know—I’m sure they can help.”

Margaret kept her word. Ethan was hired at a factory with on-the-job training. Her husband was well-known at that factory…