My Daughter Knit My Wedding Dress – Just Hours Before the Ceremony, I Found It Ruined and Knew Exactly Who Did It

But I remember when she was young, Brandon had taught her how to knit using a pair of chopsticks. Our daughter had gravitated toward knitting immediately, and it had been something they’d shared.

The needles that I’d been holding onto were smooth birch wood, polished and warm to the touch, engraved near the ends with Lily’s name and two words beneath it:

“Love, Dad.”

I had chosen the engraving after his death, hoping that one day they would help her feel close to him again.

She ran her fingers over the engraving when I handed them to her, her lips pressed together as she swallowed hard.

And she did.

My daughter worked on that dress every afternoon after school, counting rows under her breath, undoing mistakes without complaint. The yarn slowly becoming something recognizable — something soft and strong all at once.

When I tried it on for the first time, Lily stood back and tilted her head, evaluating it like a professional.

It was the highest compliment she could have given me.

Clara, Daniel’s older sister, arrived the night before the wedding.

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