On my eighteenth birthday, my grandmother gave me a red cardigan she had knitted.
I thanked her politely, then rushed out, too caught up in youth to appreciate her effort.
Weeks later, she passed away, and the cardigan became a symbol of guilt, folded in my closet, untouched.
Years later, while cleaning with my fifteen-year-old daughter, she found the sweater and wanted to try it on.
Inside a pocket, we discovered a note in my grandmother’s handwriting:
“For my sweet girl, May this keep you warm when I no longer can. Always remember how deeply you are loved.”
Tears came as I realized the cardigan carried her love across generations.
My daughter now wears it proudly, connecting our family—grandmother, me, and daughter. What once symbolized regret became a living testament to enduring love and legacy.