When the time came for gifts, the contrast was stark. My grandchild didn’t even notice my gift. In the excitement over the silver SUV, my small gift bag felt insignificant. I felt so little and ended up leaving the party early. The next day, the pain was intensified when I discovered the blanket torn to shreds in her trash. It was a shocking moment that made me freeze.

Three Months of Love in Every Stitch

This wasn’t just any blanket. I’d spent three months on that blanket. The effort was huge; my fingers ached by the end of each day, but I didn’t mind. I had put my heart and history into it, using leftover yarns I’d saved over the years. Some threads were from when Leilani was a baby, and others were from blankets I’d made her mother and aunties. It wasn’t store-bought perfect, but it was full of stories, memories. Love.

The graduation party itself was beautiful—white tents, catered food, and a DJ spinning ‘90s throwbacks. Her mom, my daughter Maris, had gone all out. The atmosphere was joyful. People laughed, danced, and took pictures. The excitement peaked when Leilani’s other grandma, Sheryl, pulled up in that silver SUV, keys in hand, people actually clapped. Leilani screamed, hugged Sheryl, cried a little. But when she saw my gift bag, she simply smiled politely, said, “Aw, thank you, Grandma,” and handed it off to someone without even opening it.

I stood there, still holding my plate. No one noticed my reaction, not even Maris, who had been so busy coordinating the photo booth. Feeling overwhelmed and heartbroken, I left quietly before dessert. I didn’t even say goodbye.