A year had passed since my grandmother, Patricia—“Grandma Patty” to those who loved her—shared her final request: “Promise me, sweet pea. A year after I’m gone, clean the photo on my headstone. Just you.” Her words stayed with me as I stood at her grave, cleaning supplies in hand, ready to fulfill her wish. What I didn’t expect was the final gift she had left for me. Grandma Patty was my world. Her laughter filled my life with warmth and joy, and even now, her home feels eerily silent. Sometimes, I still reach for the phone to call her, forgetting that she’s gone. But even in her absence, she found a way to send her love one last time, with a surprise that would change my life forever. As I carefully removed the weathered brass frame from her photo at the grave, I found a folded piece of paper. It was yellowed with age, and when I unfolded it, I saw her familiar handwriting: “My dearest sweet pea, One last treasure hunt together. Remember how we searched for magic in the ordinary...