WHAT MY GRANDMA BOUGHT BEFORE SHE PASSED AWAY!

I don’t know how long I sat there crying. But when I finally pulled myself together, the pieces began to fall into place. That $60 she’d asked for—it wasn’t for bills or groceries. It was for this.

Her final purchase was a gift for me.

I thought back to all the times we’d sat at that table, her telling stories she never finished, poems she never published, sketches she never showed. When I was little, she’d read me her stories before bed—tales of courage, forgiveness, and finding light in ordinary places.

She’d laugh and say, “Someday, you’ll write better ones.”

I always brushed it off. But sitting there with her final gift in my hands, I realized—she meant it.

She believed in me long before I ever did.

At her funeral, everyone brought flowers. I brought the box, untouched except for the ribbon I’d retied. When it was my turn to speak, I placed it beside her photo.

“I didn’t come here to talk about loss,” I said. “I came to talk about love—the quiet kind. The kind that doesn’t ask for attention or thanks.”Continue reading…