Isn't it Ironic?

There once was a man who owned a great, old, elegant watch. He was not particularly rich, nor particularly poor; he was a proud member of the upper-middle class and thus remained their for the majority of his life, with the exception of his college years.
The watch was not one of obvious monetary value, but he admired it all the same. It had been a departing gift from his father who had passed away almost 10 years before his son turned 50 years old. With the tragedy of his father's death looming like a heavy shadow above his life, the man harbored a mysterious attachment to the watch: an attachment only one who has suffered a great loss could even possibly comprehend the meaning behind.
To him, the watch was a symbol of his father's legacy, his character, his beliefs. And the man wore it with pride for almost 10 straight years, only removing it when preparing to take a shower. Someone who knew the man well would know with certainty that he always wore the leather-banded silver-rimmed watch on his right hand, directly above the small freckle on his lower forearm. The position of the watch was most convenient for him, simply because he could raise his arm up and see the time without a strain.
One day, as the deep pain of his father's death began to glaze over and become only a numb memory, and the man could again rejoice in the long life of his dad, the watch stopped working. The tiny hands refused to spin, no matter the amount of effort the man put into fixing it. He took it to many jewelers and watchmakers, but none could guess what went wrong. Reluctantly, the man took the watch off, and set it with great care in the top drawer of his dresser.
Days, months, years passed and the watch soon slipped his mind. Microscopic pieces of dust fell one by one on its once shining surface, transforming it into a tainted old antique. The leather began to grow stale and hardened with the time. The man was nearly 70 years old before he stumbled upon it again.
This time, instead of bittersweet memories of his deceased father overwhelming him with emotion, there was only one thing on his mind: the profit he could make from it.
So much time had passed, that the man could easily make a fair sum of money from it. With a bit of cleaning and polishing, the watch was taken down to a local pawn shop and was quickly bought for more than the man expected. Feeling especially pleased with himself for making such a wise decision, the man promptly took his wife to one of the most expensive restaurants in town for celebration. They drank the most elegant of wines and were merry.
Months later, in the midst of winter, the man and his wife were going Christmas shopping at a local mall. The man had always been admired for his excellent eyesight, and although it had dullened with age, the man could still see fairly well. What he saw in the mall made his heart tighten, his throat dry up, and his teeth clench. On the arm of a tall, handsome young man rested his watch. Jealousy suddenly overwhelmed him. He remembered his dad, he remembered how much the watch meant to him, he remembered the countless days of pride in which the watch could always be found on his arm, he remembered how much he had lost, and thought: "Isn't it ironic how the value in an item is not revealed until it is lost?"