When I was 14, I lost my mom to cancer. My name is Rachel. At that age, I lost her, and my life fell apart. Her wedding attire was one of the few things that made me feel better. It was soft, beautiful, and smelled like her, like she was still there, holding me close. It was so pretty that I thought a part of her would be walking down the aisle with me. I promised myself I would wear it on my wedding day.
Finally, after a few years, my dad got married again. This time, it was Sandra. I attempted to accept the changes at first. I knew that life had to go on. But it didn’t take long for the little things that made me think of Mom to go away from our house. They took down her favorite curtains, put her family photos away without her knowing, and even packed up her handwritten recipes. Sandra seemed to be trying to erase all memories of my mother from our lives, as if she thought she could change the past.
But I had kept the outfit my mom wore to her wedding a secret. I put it in a secure bag and stashed it in the back of my closet. I would use it as my hidden anchor when I missed her. I didn’t inform Sandra because I thought it was vital to keep it safe.
After Daniel proposed, the first thing I did was take out the dress. I put it on by myself in front of the mirror in my room, with no shoes on. It fit just right. Not only because everything was lovely, but also
because I could feel my mother’s love all around me. At that moment, it looked like she was smiling.
That day, Sandra strolled in out of the blue and spotted me in the outfit. She stopped, glanced at me, and then grimaced. “You should wear something modern,” she stated in a monotone voice. “That looks like it came from the past.” I told her in a calm but forceful way that I would be wearing my mom’s clothes, and that was that.
That seemed like the end.
But as I opened my closet on the morning of my wedding, my heart fell. There wasn’t a dress. I searched every box, cabinet, and room, but I couldn’t find anything. Sandra confessed the truth when I asked her about it. She said she had thrown the clothing away. “Letting go was necessary,” she said. “Time to begin again.”
It felt like someone had snatched my mom away from me again. “We had to call off the wedding,” I said to Daniel as I fell to the ground and wailed. I couldn’t think of anything else to wear to the wedding. The meaning of the clothes was more important than the clothes themselves. Hi, Mom. My history. I promise.
Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Carter, our neighbor, knocked on the door. She knew what the clothing was since she had seen it in the trash. She claimed she was shocked that someone would throw away something so important. We worked together to clean it thoroughly, getting rid of all the stains and creases. I got strength I didn’t know I had since she was so nice.
The room went quiet when I wore the dress and walked down the aisle later that day. People were shocked. My dad’s eyes were full with tears, and he looked like he was ready to cry. I saw Sandra among the crowd. Her lips was a little open, and her face was pale. She looked like her plan had just fallen apart in front of her.
My dad gave the most moving speech I had ever heard during the reception. He talked on how vital it is to remember the individuals we’ve lost, the memories we cherish, and the love that never dies. I could sense that he instantly got why and how much I had been holding on.
Sandra left the reception without saying anything and never came back. She departed without saying goodbye or making a big deal out of it. After that day, things seemed to change. not as heavy. It didn’t feel like our house was a place where quiet fights happened anymore. It was once again full of love, laughing, and old stories that we were no longer ashamed to repeat.
Putting on my mother’s clothes helped me solve something that was wrong with all of us, and it also maintained a promise I made to myself. It made me remember that real love never dies. It stays there even if someone tries to get rid of it.
