I remembered her tired hands, her warm smile, the way she sat patiently as I rushed through life not realizing she was giving me the last gift she had to give. The cardigan wasn’t just clothing — it was hours of effort, aching fingers, and a lifetime of affection stitched into every row. I had tucked it away like it was nothing, unaware that time was already running out to appreciate her fully. Watching my daughter wrap herself in it, warmth spreading across her face, something inside me finally softened.
Tears gathered — not just from regret, but from gratitude. I hugged my daughter and told her about the grandmother she never met, a woman who loved quietly but fiercely. “Love doesn’t always shout,” I whispered. “Sometimes it’s woven, slowly, with patience and hope.” We folded the cardigan together — not to hide it, but to cherish it properly at last. And in that simple act, I understood: some gifts don’t reveal their true value until life teaches us how to see them.