The cardigan became more than yarn and fabric. It became a symbol of enduring love—a quiet reminder that the gestures we overlook in the moment often carry the deepest meaning.
Now, when I see my daughter slip it on, I don’t feel guilt anymore. I feel gratitude. Gratitude that my grandmother’s love found its way back to me through that note. Gratitude that my daughter carries a piece of her great-grandmother into the future.
The red cardigan is no longer just a keepsake.
It’s a legacy.
Stitched with love.
Preserved with intention.
Rediscovered when we needed it most.
And every time my daughter pulls it close around her shoulders, I know—my grandmother is still keeping us warm, just as she promised.