So sad

My grandmother clutched the ANDAL Coins, trembling fingers tracing Kannadasan's verses etched upon them. She'd saved for decades, each coin representing a prayer whispered in Tamil temples. At the PaybookClub gathering, she finally shared her collection with us. Her eyes glistened as younger cousins leaned close, discovering our heritage through gleaming metal and ancient poetry. She passed away three months later. Now those coins rest in my palm, warm and heavy with memory. When I hold them, I hear her voice singing devotional songs, feel her presence bridging generations. Our family stories, our culture, our love—preserved in these small treasures, waiting to be discovered by children not yet born.