I got my husband his dream watch for our 10th anniversary.
All he got me was cheap perfume in a plastic bottle. I was so angry, I tossed it aside and never used it. This was our last celebration because he died unexpectedly three weeks later.
The pain of losing him was unbearable—I replayed that night over and over, angry not at the gift anymore, but at myself for letting disappointment overshadow love.
I missed his voice, his laugh, even the way he reminded me to drink water when I got too busy.
Today, I was cleaning and the bottle fell. When it hit the floor, the cap popped off and a small folded paper slipped out.
My hands trembled as I picked it up. Inside was a handwritten note that said, “I know this perfume is temporary, but next month I’ll surprise you with the necklace you’ve been dreaming about.
Thank you for believing in me even when I don’t say it enough. You are my forever gift.”
I sat there on the floor, holding the bottle and the note against my heart, tears pouring freely. The perfume wasn’t cheap—
he had simply wrapped his love in a humble container while saving for something bigger. But the real gift wasn’t the necklace. It was his thoughtfulness, his effort, his quiet love that I had failed to see.
Now, I keep the bottle on my bedside table—not as a reminder of what I lost, but of the love that was always there.
Sometimes, the value of a gift isn’t in the price, but in the heart behind it. And sometimes, we only understand its worth when it’s too late.
2nd story: The Day I Couldn’t Give My Parents Money — And My Mother Gave Me Something Far Greater
I’ve always given a part of my salary to my parents. After our first child was born, I told them, “Money’s tight right now. You’ll need to take care of yourselves.
”The next day, I was shocked to find my wife in tears. She said, “Your mother… she came this morning. She gave me an envelope and said, ‘I know things are hard right now.
Take this. You need it more than we do.’”
I froze. I had cut off their support only yesterday, and already my mother was giving back what little she had.When I opened the envelope, there wasn’t much — just a small sum, the kind you’d expect from parents who had lived modestly all their lives. But tucked inside was a note in her familiar handwriting:
“Son, we managed before you started helping us, and we’ll manage again. Family isn’t about who gives more; it’s about who holds each other up when times are tough.
Don’t feel guilty — just raise your child with love. That will be enough for us.”I couldn’t hold back my tears.
All my life, I thought I had been supporting them, but in truth, they had always been supporting me — not just with money, but with strength, sacrifice, and unconditional love.
That night, I held my wife and child close and whispered a prayer of gratitude. I promised myself that when times got better,
I would give back even more — not just money, but the love and care my parents had shown me all along.
Because sometimes, the richest people aren’t the ones with the most money, but the ones whose hearts never stop giving.