“Love is the truest treasure,” my late Nana always said. It took her acting as if she couldn’t hear and a surprising
“Love is the truest treasure,” my late Nana always said. It took her acting as if she couldn’t hear and a surprising will reading for her selfish children to finally grasp her meaning.
Value your grandparents while they’re still here. Hold them close, murmur “I love you,” and make memories that will comfort your heart long after they’re gone. Because one day, those memories will be all you have.
I’m Sophie, and I’m about to share how my 89-year-old Nana Beatrice taught me this precious lesson that changed my life forever. I was 15 when it all happened. While my friends were caught up in summer romances and beach outings, I was happy spending time with Nana Beatrice.
Her warm smile always brightened my day. “Sophie, love,” Nana said once, her voice gentle and kind. “Want to help me tend the garden later?”
I nodded eagerly, ignoring the scoff from my uncle across the room.
He never got why I spent time with the “old woman.”
“You’re wasting your summer, Sophie,” my Uncle Victor grumbled. “Why not join us at the lake instead?”
I shot him a look. “Because I actually care about Nana, Uncle Victor.
You should try it sometime.”
As Nana and I trimmed the flowers together, I noticed her hands trembling slightly. She was getting older, and it worried me. “Nana,” I said softly.
“You know I love you, right?”
She paused, her warm eyes meeting mine. “Of course, darling. And I love you too.
More than you’ll ever know.”
As we went inside, I hugged her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of lilac and fresh-baked bread on her apron. I didn’t know it then, but this quiet moment was the calm before everything changed. “Sophie,” Nana said, her tone suddenly serious.
“Promise me something. No matter what comes, always stay true to who you are.”
I pulled back, puzzled. “Of course, Nana.
But why are you saying this?”
She just smiled, her eyes twinkling as always. “You’ll see one day, my dear. Now, shall we bake some bread?”
A week before Nana’s 89th birthday, everything shifted.
Dad came home, his face pale. “Sophie,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Nana’s in the hospital.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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