My mom sewed me a magical Halloween dress just days before she passed away. I treasured it because it was the last thing she ever made for me. Two years later, I finally felt ready to wear it again — but minutes before I was supposed to put it on, my stepmother secretly burned it, claiming it was “evil” and trying to “save my soul.”
I broke down. My dad finally saw who she really was and threw her out. Later, he found a single scrap of the dress, and I kept it in a locket. Sometimes, I still feel my mom with me — like love really doesn’t leave, it just waits to be remembered.
