Great-grandma finished her knitting the day before she died, but no one noticed when I put it there in the coffin.

She was German, made it through both big wars. Not so her family. Her husband was Jewish and got taken by the Nazis along with his children. It was a forbidden topic at our house, but sometimes she would tell me about it.

The last few years were hard on Great-grandma. Ruffians in the neighborhood would steal her Social Security checks. She said in the old days, with the old ways, a woman was safe on the streets. I would listen for hours as I watched her knit away.

Most people thought she wouldn’t talk about it because of sorrow, but she turned him in, you know, her husband. He cheated on her too, just like he cheated on his first wife. She didn’t mourn when they hauled him and his brats away.

Great-grandma finished her knitting and it’s best to be buried just like her old bones. Who would have thought the old woman still knew how to make a swastika anymore, let along knit one.