A box arrived in the mail. I knew it was coming. My brother sent it to celebrate the birth of Henry and future little Lynchs. When I opened it, I started to cry.
These sweaters were made by my Mother about 60 years ago. My Mother has been gone for 20 years and I still miss her. We have very few family heirlooms since my parents grew up during the Depression. I am the baby of the family. I knew she knitted sweaters for my brother and sister, but by the time I came along, my parents had achieved the status of the middle class. My Mother then spent more time shopping than knitting. Back then handmade was homemade, and it had a stigma to it. I sadly never saw anything that she created.
It's hard to explain how I felt when I opened the box and picked up each sweater and touched the yarn that she had touched. The sweaters were in such good shape and they were gorgeous.
It was such a hear felt moment for me.
This was my Brother's gift for my grandson. I really have no idea of how the sweaters came into his possession nor how he tracked them down. But he knew how much this work of our Mother's hands would mean to me. It was the utmost gift of love. I never knew she was so talented.
This is the only one that needs a little TLC - a new zipper and a little stain removal.
I look forward to being a part of our family history.
Henry will have to share these if there are future cousins and siblings, but I don't think he'll mind.
I am sure I will cry again when I see my Mother's hands keeping my grandchild(ren) warm.