My three younger children have no memory of their Great-Grandma. We lived in her basement apartment for the first six years of our marriage, and it was a great blessing to us.
She was an expert crocheter (is that a word?). One year she crocheted a beautiful Christmas village out of crochet cotton. She also crocheted for us a Christmas tree. She recommended that we decorate it with mini ornaments and beads and things, which we never did, but we use that tree every year. It sits there amongst our other decorations with a cone underneath to give it structure.
My children's favorite thing to do with the tree is to remove the cone and use it as a hat. We had a big enough break in our family, that for a few years, the tree was only a tree. The younger ones had never experienced the tree-as-hat. And yet, with no prompting and having never seen it done, when they reached a certain age, the tree ended up on their heads just as it had with their older siblings.
Every one of my six children have danced and sung and played in that Christmas tree. Today we decorated and as we opened the totes and were reunited with our favorite Christmasy things, the hat ended up on Girlie-Whirls head, just as it did last year and the year before that. And I spent a sweet moment walking down memory lane with my Grandma.