My Stepmom Destroyed the Skirt I Made from My Late Dad’s Ties—Karma Knocked on Our Door That Same Night
When my dad died last spring, the world went quiet in a way that hurt to breathe. He had been my constant — the Sunday pancake maker, the teller of awful jokes, the voice that said, “You can do anything, sweetheart.” After losing Mom when I was eight, it had been just the two of us. Then…