A week later, I saw his mother at the grocery store, and to my shock, she was wearing the exact same floral sweater. I stared at her for a moment before she noticed me. Instead of looking embarrassed, she smiled and said, “Mom, I was wondering when you’d see it.” Then she explained that my grandson had come home feeling terrible about what happened. He admitted that some of his friends had laughed at the sweater and that, rather than defend me, he had pretended not to know me.
His mother refused to let the moment disappear with a simple apology. She told him that the sweater had belonged to my late husband and had been one of the few things I kept after he passed away. I wore it because it reminded me of him, not because I cared whether anyone thought it was fashionable. My grandson had never known that. When his mother explained it, she said he sat silently for several minutes before finally asking if there was any way he could make things right.
