I received a gift not too long ago. A once in a lifetime gift that rocked me to the core. In a good way.

An old friend who reads this blog (hi K!) had read a post I wrote about my Oma in which I mentioned the sweaters she used to knit. She made them for hundreds of children over the years. I wore many of them throughout my childhood but none were kept. When she died there were only five sweaters left. They’ve been kept so that the first five of her grandchildren who have babies can each have one. Each grandchild was allowed to pick one.  I was the first to have a child and since she was a girl I picked the only sweater that was very girly and pink. This is it:

At the time I didn’t really consider that I could eventually have a son and he wouldn’t be able to wear it. At least I didn’t consider that it would bother me if I had a son and he never got the chance to wear a sweater made by his great grandmother. But it did. It does. It’s not something I dwell on, but when I think about it it makes me a wee little bit sad.

So you can imagine my complete shock when I opened a package from my friend and found this:

It’s like a gift from beyond the grave. It took my breath away. My Oma made this sweater. I knew it right away because it’s one of the most common patterns she made. I hadn’t realized that my mom had sent one of these sweaters, made by her mother who was still living at the time, when my friend’s son was born over seven years ago. Yes, it has flowers on it. But with manly black stripes and a skunk. Skunks are masculine, right? I’m ok with putting it on my boy.

The letter that came with the package said some beautiful things about the grandmother that I loved and selflessly gave my son, gave me, something that touched me very, very deeply. The sweaters aren’t the height of fashion, but they were made with love and they offer a connection to my past that no store-bought item could ever compare with.

Thanks, K, for thinking of me and my kids. You will never know how much it meant to me.