“Yeah?”
“That was weird.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty weird.”
The ceremony continued.
Kids walked across the stage while parents clapped and cheered.
Then the teacher called Melissa’s name.
She stepped forward proudly.
Before handing her the certificate, the teacher leaned toward the microphone.
“And Melissa’s dress was handmade by her father.”
The entire gym applauded.
Melissa beamed.
And for the first time since Jenna died, something inside my chest felt lighter.
After the ceremony parents came over.
One mother touched the dress.
“This is beautiful.”
Another father said, “You should sell these.”
I laughed it off.
But the next morning something unexpected happened.
Melissa’s teacher had posted a photo from graduation online.
The caption read:
“Melissa’s father handcrafted this dress himself.”
By afternoon my phone buzzed with a message.
“Hello Mark. I own a tailoring shop downtown. If you’re interested in sewing work, give me a call.”
Months later I was still repairing air conditioners during the day and sewing at night.
Eventually the shop owner looked at me and said,
“You know… you could open your own place.”
