My stepmother came to my graduation using an exact copy of the last dress my mother sewed to me before she died… but I didn’t know what would appear on the kara screen
“I just wanted to pay tribute.
I heard a woman say,
A tribute?
Another person murmured:
“Then why did you hide it?”
Shirley came down from the furious stage.
He came over to me.
“You did this.
I denied.
“No.
And for the first time that night I could look at her without fear.
You did this alone.
Gary came over.
But it didn’t come empty-handed.
I was bringing a little box.
“There’s something else.
He handed it to me.
What is it?
My mom kept it for years.
I didn’t understand.
Gary took a deep breath.
Your mom gave it to her before she died. He asked her to wait until the time has come.
I opened the box.
Inside was an envelope.
I immediately recognized the lyrics.
It was my mom’s.
My hands started shaking.
I opened the letter.
I couldn’t read it full aloud.
The tears didn’t leave me.
But there was a part I never forgot.
My mom said that maybe someday someone would try to convince me that our memories could be replaced.
That things could be lost.
That a house could change.
That even a dress could break or disappear.
But there was something that no one could copy or take away from me:
the love with which it had been created.
I took the letter to my chest.
I didn’t care anymore that Shirley carried a copy.
I looked at our dresses.
They were almost identical.
But for the first time that night I understood the difference.
His had been commissioned to compete with me.
Mine had been sewn by a sick woman who knew she probably would never see me use it.
Every stitch had cost effort.
Time.
