The clothes a loved one wears may seem insignificant when they dwell among the living. But once they make the journey into the next life, those same clothes take on a meaning of their own, and may even tell a story.

Such was the sweater my grandfather wore during his lifetime. A sweater that would be passed down to my father, and then to me.

It was during the 1940s, when grandmother Rosina (Rizzuto) Falcone walked from her house on Talman Street to Reid & Hughes in Norwich to look for a sweater to give husband Nunzio for his birthday. I think she would have laughed if someone had told her that the same sweater would survive over eight decades of wear.

This story begins like most birthdays, with Nunzio opening his gift.

He lifted the sweater out of the box with admiration. It was tightly knitted, yet thin, which pleased him. He immediately put it on.

At the time, my grandfather was working at the King-Seeley Thermos Division. He was a foreman in the glass factory.

“I can wear this to work. It is thin, but warm. It will be my good luck charm.”

As time progressed, life was happening too quickly. All seven children were now married and grandchildren were in abundance.

And this is when a series of unexplained incidents began to occur.

One summer day, while working at Thermos, Nunzio and another worker came too close to the machinery. The heat severely burned the other worker’s hand, yet Nunzio walked away unscathed.

He was wearing the sweater.

Eventually, Nunzio retired from Thermos and worked part-time in various jobs. The sweater was still with him, not looking any different from the first day he received it.

One of his favorite jobs was working for Norwich Public Schools as a crossing guard. He was often seen eating a long stick of salami while waving children safely across the road.

However, one day his life almost changed for the worst.

He was directing a group of elementary children across the street when one boy fell behind after he stopped to look at a butterfly. Wanting to return to the group, the boy ran into the road after the light had changed.

As the speeding car came by, Nunzio grabbed the boy and lifted him into the air. The car missed them by inches.

He was wearing the sweater.

Nunzio believed the sweater was good luck, but he also knew that he was not free from tragedy.

For the meaning of life is to accept the rose has thorns.

In 1971, Rosina died. Nunzio came home from the funeral, took off his jacket, and looked for his sweater. He did not remove the sweater for days. Somehow, it meant Rosina was still with him.

Trouble ahead…

Due to loneliness and alcoholism, Nunzio lost his beautiful Victorian house. All he remembers is taking the sweater and moving into a small, dark apartment.

Two years later…he died.

Distraught, my father searched his apartment until he found the sweater.

In 2009, after my father passed, I searched every closet in his house — until I found it.

Sometimes, after a loved one dies, we keep the memory alive by clinging to what they loved.

When I wear the sweater I know—my grandfather is in Heaven, eating a long stick of salami, helping children cross streets of gold.

Concetta Falcone-Codding is a 1971 graduate of the Norwich Free Academy and is the author of “The Lonely Nest.” You can email concettafalconecodding1@gmail.com.