I Wore My Late Granddaughter’s Prom Dress to Her Prom – But What She Hid Inside Made Me Grab the Mic
I stood there and looked down at the blue dress.
The lights caught the fabric the way they would have caught it on Gwen; the way they were supposed to.
I thought about her at eight years old, telling me not to worry.
I thought about her scrolling through dresses on that old phone with the cracked screen she refused to let me replace.
I stood there and looked down at the blue dress.
I thought about every little moment in the weeks before her death when she’d seemed tired or withdrawn.
She had been so much braver than I knew, and she’d carried it all alone to protect me from worrying.
But that letter wasn’t the last of Gwen’s surprises.
The next morning, my phone rang just after seven.
“Is this Gwen’s grandmother?” A woman’s voice.
“It is. Who is this?”
That letter wasn’t the last of Gwen’s surprises.
