Your grandfather can sharpen a knife, fix a zipper and read the sky. When he’s gone, so is the tutorial. Ask now.

Skill that never got written down lives only in the person who holds it, and most of it leaves quietly with them. An older relative’s hands know things no search will return in the same form, because the knowing is in the angle and the feel and the small corrections. There is no archive for that except your attention while it is still here.

If someone in your family can do something you cannot, ask them to show you once. Bring the knife, the jacket, the broken thing. The lesson matters, and so does the hour you spend getting it.