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Missing Mom More Than Ever
That evening, I sat alone in my room staring at old family photos.
She had passed away years earlier, but moments like this made her absence feel fresh all over again.
I found myself wondering what she would have said.
Probably something that would have made me smile.
Instead, I cried.
My Brother’s Idea
My older brother, Noah, had always been protective of me.
Without saying much, he asked me to come with him to the attic.
There, he pulled out several storage boxes filled with our mother’s belongings.
Inside one box were stacks of old jeans she used to wear.
Some were patched.
All of them carried memories.
“What if we make your dress?”
Not because it was funny, but because it seemed impossible.
Neither of us was a fashion designer.
Neither of us had ever made a dress before.
But Noah was serious.
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