My 68-year-old grandma wrote in the family chat one afternoon, asking if anyone could help her with a small amount of money. Life gets busy, and most family members didn’t respond right away, but the message stayed in my mind. Two days later, I finally transferred her the money she needed, relieved that I could at least support her in a small way.
That same night, she passed away peacefully in her sleep, leaving all of us with unexpected sorrow and unanswered questions. When the news reached the family, everyone reacted differently, but I felt a deep pull to visit her home. I needed to understand why she had asked for money in the first place.
When I walked inside, I froze. On her kitchen table were a few simple groceries and a small gift bag with my name written on the front. She had used the money I sent her not for herself, but to prepare something thoughtful for me—something she hoped to give me the next time I visited.
Inside the gift bag was a soft scarf she had knitted by hand, along with a neatly folded note. Her handwriting, though a little shaky, was still full of warmth. She thanked me for always checking on her and wrote that she hoped the scarf would keep me warm during the colder days.
