For years, Clem’s grandmother gave her the same puzzling birthday gift: a tiny plastic sheep. But after her grandmother’s passing, Clem discovered these simple toys held a hidden secret, one that would change her life and reveal the depth of her grandmother’s love.
For as long as I can remember, Grandma had gifted me little plastic sheep with a bell every year for my birthday, and for just as long, I never understood why. A different colored bell, but always a sheep.
A small sheep figurine | Source: Pexels
I glanced at my shelf, where they all sat in a neat row, each one from a different birthday.
“She’s sweet,” I thought to myself. “But does she even remember what she gave me last year?”
I didn’t dare ask her. After all, Grandma was old. Her hair was white, her hands shaky, and her memory wasn’t what it used to be. Still, every year, without fail, on my birthday, she would shuffle over with a little box in her hand.
Grandmother and granddaughter | Source: Pexels
“Happy Birthday, Clem,” she would say, her voice soft and raspy.
“Thanks, Grandma,” I would reply, smiling, though a little confused.
She always looked so proud, watching me open it, as if the sheep were something special. But to me, they were just… sheep. Plastic and simple.
Toy plastic sheep | Source: Pixabay
I used to think it was because she had so many grandchildren to keep track of. My two older brothers, Sheldon and Sam, got things like money or tools—stuff they could use. But me? Sheep.
“Maybe she’s just getting forgetful,” I would tell myself, trying to brush it off.
It wasn’t long before everything changed. My 19th birthday came and went, and Grandma wasn’t there to give me another sheep. She had fallen ill just a few months before, and everyone knew her time was near.
An ill woman | Source: Pexels
One evening, Mom sat beside me on the couch, her face tired and sad. “You should go see her, Clem,” she said softly.
I hesitated. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to remember her like this.”
