On the morning of my wedding, my stepmother threw away my late mother’s wedding dress—the one thing I’d saved to feel close to her after losing her to cancer at 14. Over the years, Sandra slowly erased my mom from our home, but I protected that dress, promising I’d wear it when I married.
When I chose it over a modern gown, Sandra mocked me and warned I’d regret it. On my wedding day, I opened the garment bag and found it empty. She admitted she’d tossed it in the trash. I was shattered—until our kind neighbor rescued the dress, cleaned it, and returned it just in time.
I walked down the aisle in my mother’s gown, stunning the room and exposing the truth. My dad finally saw what Sandra had done, stood up for me, and later ended the marriage. What was meant to ruin my wedding became the moment my mother’s love—and my voice—was restored.
