My dads new wife showed up one day with a big box of sweets and two little poodles wagging their tails happily. My sister and I just frozeterrified. Wed heard too many stories about wicked stepmotherscold, harsh, heartlessand fear kept us silent.
But she didnt take it to heart. She just smiledsoft, gentle, the kind of smile shed worn all her life. She was a kind-looking woman with dark hair and warm eyes. Dad introduced her without much warmth: “This is your new mum.”
I was too young to realise how awkward and painful that mustve been for her. We welcomed her with icy silence.
The wedding was quiet, just a small registry office affair. Soon after, she moved into our housea place still heavy with grief. Wed grown used to the shadows.
On her first day, she threw open all the windows, let the sunlight flood in, and turned on the radio. I remember my sisters annoyed facethe sudden brightness and noise shattering the quiet wed clung to.
She cleaned with such care, as if scrubbing away the sadness itself. When she picked up the portrait of our mother, I held my breath, certain shed take it down. But she just dusted it off and hung it right backcentre of the wall.
Thats when I started letting her in.
In the kitchen, she was magic. She cooked dishes wed never tried beforethats how she won Dad over first, and eventually, us.
A year passed. The house felt lighter. The grief was still there, but it hurt less. Mums photo still hung in the living roomnow with fondness instead of pain.
We never called her “Mum,” and she never asked us to. She earned our trust with patienceguiding us, standing up for us, covering for us when we got into scrapes.
Then came the day Dad didnt come home from work.
At first, she stayed calm, but after endless phone calls, the news came: His car had been found at the bottom of a cliff. Hed died on impact.
It was the second death of my childhoodthe day I learned nothing lasts forever.
After the funeral, we were terrified shed leave us too. But she stayed. If anything, she grew stronger. She worked part-time at a café, spent the rest of her time on uswalks, music, laughter, dancing with the dogs in the garden.
We watched her from a distance, but she never gave up.
One morning, I asked where my football was. She found it straight away, handing it to me with a smile.
“If you dont want to play alone, Ill join you,” she said.
“Alright,” I replied.
She kicked off her shoes and ran barefoot into the garden, laughing like a kid as the dogs chased her.
Thats when I truly started loving her.
My sister noticed too, and slowly, she let her in as well.
By years end, she was the heart of our home.
When I finished school, I never dreamed Id afford university. But shed secretly savedalready enrolled me. I cried when I found out.
My sister became a nurse.
She wasnt our mother by blood, but she stayed. She became the mum we never expected.
Years passed. I became a solicitor and stayed close to her.
She fell ill when I was thirty-three. I moved back to care for her. She knew time was short, but she still smiled.
“Promise me youll laugh,” she said. “No tears.”
One summer Monday, we buried her under the trees. She didnt want to lie beside Dad.
“That spots for your mother,” shed said.
Now we visit all three.
Red roses for Mum.
Jokes for Dad, who loved to laugh.
And sweets for herjust like she asked.
Not every second chance ends well.
But sometimes, someone special walks into your life
and stays forever
even when theyre gone.
