I was ten when my mother decided I was a burden. She had a new family and I didn’t fit the picture. So she got rid of me and gave me away like I was nothing to raise her “perfect son.” My grandma took me in and loved me. Years later, the woman who abandoned me showed up at my door… begging.
There’s a moment when you realize some wounds never heal. For me, that moment came at 32 as I stood at my grandmother’s grave. The only person who had ever truly loved me was gone, and the woman who gave birth to me and abandoned me stood across the cemetery, not even looking in my direction.
I hadn’t seen my mother in years. Not since she decided my brother was worth raising… but I wasn’t.
A grieving woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
The rain fell in sheets that day, soaking through my black dress as I watched them lower Grandma Brooke’s casket into the ground. My mother, Pamela, stood under an umbrella with her perfect family — her husband Charlie and their son Jason… my replacement and the “golden” child worthy of her love.
She didn’t cry. Not really. She just dabbed at her eyes occasionally for show.
When it was over, she turned and walked away without a word to me, just like she had 22 years ago when I was ten. I remained rooted to the spot, alone with the fresh mound of dirt that covered the only parent I’d ever really had.
“I don’t know how to do this without you, Grandma,” I whispered to the grave.
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
I was born from a brief affair and I was an inconvenience my mother never wanted. When I was ten, she married my stepfather Charlie and gave birth to their “perfect son” Jason. Suddenly, I became nothing more than a reminder of her past mistake.
I still remember the day she told me I wouldn’t be living with them anymore.
“Rebecca, come here,” she called from the kitchen table where she sat with Grandma Brooke.
I walked in, hope blooming in my chest.
A frustrated woman | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, Mom?” I asked. She rarely spoke directly to me anymore.
Her eyes were cold and distant. “You’re going to live with Grandma now.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. “Like… for the weekend?”
“No,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “Permanently. Grandma’s going to take care of you from now on.”
I looked at Grandma, whose face was tight with anger and grief.
“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
A sad little girl looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother snapped. “I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
Grandma’s hand slammed the table. “Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shrugged. “A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
I stood there, tears streaming down my face, invisible to the woman who gave birth to me.
“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said gently, wrapping her arms around me. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”
An annoyed older woman | Source: Midjourney
Grandma’s house became my sanctuary. A place where I was wanted and where someone’s eyes lit up when I walked into the room. She hung my artwork on the fridge, helped with my homework, and tucked me in every night.
Still, the wound of my mother’s rejection festered.
“Why doesn’t she want me?” I asked one night as Grandma brushed my hair before bed.
Her hands paused. “Oh, Becca. Some people aren’t capable of the love they should give. It’s not your fault, honey. Never think it’s your fault.”
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
“But she loves Jason.”
Grandma resumed brushing, each stroke gentle and soothing. “Your mother is broken in ways I couldn’t fix. I tried, God knows I tried. But she’s always run from her mistakes instead of facing them.”
“So I’m a mistake?”
“No, honey. You are a gift. The best thing that ever happened to me. Your mother just can’t see past her own selfishness to recognize what she’s throwing away.”
An older woman with a kind smile | Source: Midjourney
I leaned into her embrace, breathing in the scent of lavender that clung to her clothes.
“Will you ever leave me too, Grandma?” I whispered.
“Never,” she said fiercely. “As long as there’s breath in my body, you will always have a home with me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
A disheartened girl looking up at someone with hope | Source: Midjourney
When I was 11, Grandma insisted we visit for a “family dinner.” She thought it was important to maintain some connection, however tenuous. Deep down, I hoped my mother realized what she’d thrown away and welcome me back with open arms.
Walking in, I saw her doting over my brother, laughing and proud… like she had never abandoned me. One-year-old Jason sat in a high chair, mashed potatoes smeared across his chubby face. My mother wiped it away with such tenderness it made my chest ache.
She barely glanced at me.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile.
She frowned. “Oh! You’re here.”
A woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
My chest tightened, but I swallowed the hurt and reached into my pocket. I pulled out a small, slightly crumpled handmade card. I had spent hours on it, carefully folding the paper, writing “I Love You, Mom” in my neatest handwriting on the front.
Inside, I had drawn a picture of our family — me, my mother, my stepfather, my baby brother, and my grandmother. I had colored it with the few markers I had, making sure to give everyone a smile. Because that’s how I wanted us to be… a real, happy family.
With hopeful eyes, I extended it toward her. “I made this for you.”
A desperate little girl holding a sheet of paper | Source: Midjourney
She barely glanced at it before passing it to my brother. “Here, honey. Something for you.”
I froze. That gift wasn’t for him. It was from me to my mother.
“I-I got that for you.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, what would I need it for? I have everything I want.”
Everything. Except me.
A shattered girl | Source: Midjourney
Years of neglect hung between us. My grandmother shot me a sympathetic glance, but I forced a smile. I wouldn’t let them see me break.
“Dinner’s ready,” Charlie called from the dining room, oblivious to the moment or choosing to ignore it.
“Come on,” my mother said, lifting Jason from his high chair. “The roast will get cold.”
That was the last time I ever wanted to see my mother. After that night, I stopped trying. And she didn’t seem to care. Not long after, she moved to another city and only called my grandmother occasionally. But she never called me.
Shot of an airplane passing above high-rise buildings | Source: Unsplash
Years passed. I grew up, became a successful woman, and built a life of my own. I went to college on scholarships, got a job in marketing, and bought a small house near Grandma’s cottage. I dated, sometimes seriously, but relationships were hard. Trust didn’t come easily when my own mother couldn’t love me.
Grandma was my rock through everything. She never missed a graduation, a birthday, or a milestone. She hung my college diploma next to her achievements. She made sure I knew I belonged.
But time is relentless. My grandmother, my true parent, grew older too. Her hands became gnarled with arthritis, her steps slower, and her memory was sometimes foggy.
An older woman walking in a park | Source: Pexels
“Remember when you tried to teach me to bake cookies and we set off the smoke alarm?” I asked one afternoon as we walked in her beloved garden.
She laughed, the sound still musical despite her 78 years. “The neighbors thought the house was on fire. That fireman was so handsome, though… I almost didn’t mind the embarrassment.”
“You flirted with him shamelessly,” I teased.
“Life’s too short not to flirt with handsome firemen, Rebecca.” She patted my hand. “Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“When I’m gone, don’t waste time on bitterness. Your mother made her choice, and it was the wrong one. But don’t let that choice define your life.”
Close-up shot of a young woman with her grandmother | Source: Freepik
I felt a chill despite the summer heat. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She smiled sadly. “We all go somewhere eventually, honey. Just promise me you’ll live fully. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I promise,” I whispered, resting my head on her shoulder like I had countless times before.
Three months later, she was gone. A stroke in her sleep. “Peaceful and a blessing, really,” the doctor said.
But it didn’t feel like a blessing to me.
A woman shaken to her core | Source: Midjourney
I was 32 when I buried her. My mother arrived with her family, but I never really saw any remorse in her eyes. She didn’t even look at me during the service.
The house felt empty without Grandma. I wandered from room to room, touching her things — the crocheted blanket on the couch, the collection of ceramic birds on the mantel, and the worn cookbook in the kitchen with her handwritten notes in the margins.
God, I missed her so much.
Just a few days after the funeral, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I froze.
It was my mother.
A desperate senior woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
She looked older, gray threading through her dark hair, and lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before. But her eyes were the same — distant and calculating.
“Please,” she whispered, gripping her purse with white-knuckled hands. “I just need to talk to you.”
Every instinct in me screamed to shut the door and walk away. But something in her tone, something almost… defeated, made me pause.
I crossed my arms. “Talk.”
An annoyed woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
She exhaled, looking down before meeting my gaze. “Your brother knows about you.”
My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
“Before she passed, your grandmother sent him a message. And told him everything.”
I swallowed hard.
“He was too young to remember you, Rebecca. And I… I didn’t let your grandmother talk about you to him. I told her if she did, she’d never see him again.”
My stomach churned. It was worse than I imagined. My mother not only abandoned me… she ERASED me.
A happy little boy walking on the road | Source: Pexels
She must have seen the horror on my face because she rushed to explain. “I thought I was doing the right thing! You had your grandmother, and I had my family —”
“You had a family,” I cut in. “You decided I wasn’t part of it.”
Her lip trembled. “He won’t speak to me, not since he read the message last night. His phone fell in the water and had been switched off for days… and he’s just gotten the message from Grandma after turning it on last night. He’s mad at me for hiding you from him. I need you to talk to him. Tell him I’m not a monster.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Not a monster? You abandoned your daughter at ten, pretended she didn’t exist, and threatened your own mother just to keep your secret. What would make you a monster, then?”
A guilty woman | Source: Midjourney
Tears welled in her eyes, but they didn’t move me. I had shed enough tears for her years ago.
Still, despite everything, I hesitated. Not for her, but for my brother.
I spent my life believing he had forgotten me. But he never had the chance to know me at all. He was just a child, manipulated by a woman who only saw me as an obstacle.
“I’ll take his number,” I said flatly.
My mother exhaled in relief, but her face fell when she realized what I meant. I wasn’t calling for her. I was calling for him.
A furious yet composed woman | Source: Midjourney
“You can give him my number,” I clarified. “If he wants to talk to me, that’s his choice. And if he doesn’t want to talk to you…” I shrugged. “That’s his choice too.”
“Rebecca, please —”
“Goodbye, Mom,” I said, and slowly closed the door.
I met Jason a week later at a quiet café across town, my heart pounding as I saw him walk in. He was tall, with dark hair like our mother’s, but his eyes were kind.
An upset man in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
He looked nervous but when he spotted me, something in his expression softened.
“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of his mouth.
I stared at him. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I…” he swallowed hard. “I didn’t know. She never told me. I only found out because of Grandma’s message. I can’t believe she did that to you.”
I studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. But there was none. He was just a kid when it happened. He hadn’t chosen this.
A smiling woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“You’re nothing like her, Jason.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “I’ve been so angry since I found out. It’s like… everything I thought I knew about Mom was a lie.”
“How did you find out exactly?”
Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I got this email from Grandma. It had pictures of you, stories about you… things Mom never told me. And a letter explaining everything.”
“She was always clever,” I said, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “Even from beyond the grave, she was looking out for us.”
A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
“She wrote that she promised not to tell me while she was alive because she was afraid Mom would cut me off from her completely.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being forced to make that choice. It’s so cruel.”
“That’s who Mom is,” I said. “She makes everything a transaction.”
He nodded, then pulled out his phone. “I have the pictures Grandma sent, if you want to see them?”
We spent the next hour looking at photos of a life intersected but separate. Grandma had documented everything for him, creating a bridge across the chasm our mother had dug between us.
A smiling man looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney
“I always wanted a sibling,” Jason said quietly. “I used to beg for a brother or sister. Mom always said she couldn’t have more children after me. Another lie.”
“You know,” I said, pushing my empty coffee cup aside, “we can’t change the past. But we can decide what happens next.”
He nodded, a tentative smile crossing his face. “I’d like to know my sister, if that’s okay with you.”
For the first time in over two decades, I let myself feel something I never thought I’d have again — a connection to family that wasn’t built on obligation or pity.
“I’d like that,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”
A cheerful woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, we talked more. I told him about my life, about how Grandma raised me, and how I spent years wondering if he ever thought of me.
And he told me about our mother. About how she had always been controlling, suffocating, and never allowed him to make his own choices.
We met at a park on a crisp autumn day, walking along paths covered in fallen leaves.
“Mom’s been calling me nonstop,” he said. “Showing up at my apartment. She even contacted my work.”
“That sounds like her. When she wants something, she doesn’t stop.”
People walking in a park | Source: Pexels
“She always acted like the perfect mom, Rebecca. I thought she was just overprotective, but now I realize… she’s just selfish. Everything has always been about her image, her comfort, and her needs.”
“Has she always been like that with you?”
He kicked at a pile of leaves. “Yeah, I guess so. I just didn’t see it clearly until now. Nothing I did was ever quite good enough unless it made her look good too.”
We both knew, at that moment, that neither of us owed her anything.
Portrait of a smiling man | Source: Midjourney
Weeks passed. I built a relationship with my brother, the one thing Mom had tried to keep from me. And she kept calling, sent messages, and even showed up at my door again.
But this time, when she knocked, I didn’t answer. She had made her choice 22 years ago. And now, I had made mine.
On what would have been Grandma’s birthday, Jason and I met at her grave. We placed her favorite yellow daisies and stood in silence.
“I wish I’d known her better,” Jason said. “Really known her.”
“She would have loved you,” I told him. “Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re you.”
A bouquet of yellow daisies on a gravestone | Source: Midjourney
As we walked back to our cars, something caught my eye across the cemetery. A familiar figure stood watching us.
Our mother.
Jason saw her too and tensed beside me.
“We don’t have to talk to her,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
We got into our cars and drove away, leaving her standing alone among the gravestones.
A sad woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
In the end, family isn’t always who gives birth to you. Sometimes it’s who sees you and chooses to stay. Grandma chose me. And in her final act of love, she gave me back the brother I never knew.
Some wounds never heal completely. But around the scars, new life can still grow.
People holding hands | Source: Pexels
Тhis Вridе Finishеd Knitting Неr Wеdding Drеss 4 Dаys Веfоrе Тhе Wеdding, Dосumеntеd Тhе Еntirе Рrосеss Аnd Shаrеd It Оnlinе
Weddings are some of the most beautiful celebrations one can experience in their life (usually). The deep connection between two lovers taking physical form in a ceremonious act for all to see is one that a lot of couples look forward to.
However, it also comes with months upon months of planning, stress, and even more planning. The one thing that a bride cannot go without—the special dress. Whether it be white, maroon, black, fluffy, frilly, or form-fitting, it must make the wearer feel likе the most beautiful woman in the whole entire world.
Some brides take the plunge of crafting their own dresses, be it for the challenge, for the love of the craft, or both. Today we delve into the story of Veronika Lindberg Heino, or Kika, who knitted her special gown for her big day in 6 weeks. She was kind enough to answer some of Bored Panda’s questions so let’s get into it!
Veronika Lindberg Heino, better known by her nickname Kika, decided to take up the challenge of knitting her own stunning wedding dress
Image credits: kutovakika
If you were given 2.5 kg of yarn and 250 hours, what would you create? Mayhaps a blanket, mayhaps a 3D portrait, or maybe a knitted wedding dress. Seeing as you clicked on this article for a very particular reason, you probably know by now that we’ll be speaking about the last option.
Opening herself to the challenge was Veronika Lindberg Heino, better known by her nickname Kika, who documented the birth of her special white dress, sharing the ups and downs with her followers on Instagram (which she started in 2017) and YouTube.
This project came about when she and her husband-to-be were both moving house and planning an impromptu wedding, making for a very stressful 7 weeks
Image credits: kutovakika
For what was already an intense project, life decided to add an extra bit of *spice*: they were moving house and planning their wedding, happening 7 weeks later, at the same time, so why not add in a project of great significance on top of it all? Unless you’re as skiIIed as Kika, I wouldn’t recommend it!
“I do love a challenge and I’m often a little bit over-ambitious, and the thought felt so wild and inspiring that I just decided to take the risk and do it,” the Finland-based knitter told Good Morning America (GMA). “I ordered 2.5 kg of pure silk yarn and announced my crazy plan on Instagram, and knew right then, there was no turning back anymore.”
She ordered 2.5 kg of pure silk yarn and announced her plans to her followers on Instagram, getting the project officially started with no way to turn back
Image credits: kutovakika
Kika based her design around Dior, Chanel, and Ulla Johnson’s dresses. She then sketched and planned the patterns. After all that, the knitting began!
Image credits: kutovakika
Nothing worth doing ever comes easy. It was a struggle finding time to knit in between moving, planning the wedding, and publishing her first book
Image credits: kutovakika
Instead of throwing Kika off balance, this added project seemed to have the opposite effect: it kept her grounded through the tumultuous time, at least for a while. Nothing worth doing comes easy, and this project was no exception, especially as she’d never knitted a dress before.
“The process was definitely intense, and the biggest struggle was to find enough time for knitting since we were in the process of moving and organizing the wedding at the same time,” said Kika. “Plus I published my first-ever knitting book, so it was definitely hectic. But, I also enjoyed it immensely and loved seeing my vision come to life in the process.”
Image credits: kutovakika
Then a big setback occured—her bodice was far too big, requiring her to rip it all up and start again. Her sleeves then kept slipping off, which took lots of time to fix
Image credits: kutovakika
Glaring issues started appearing about two weeks in when Kika had finished the bodice and tried it on for the first time—it was way too big. Disappointed, but not defeated, the bride-to-be ripped it all up, starting all over again, describing it as “a tough and frustrating moment where some tears were shed.”
One more issue came along with the slippy sleeves that kept on slipping, revealing a tad bit too much, which Kika found hilarious yet time-consuming to fix. “I made sure to film all my mistakes so I could be real and honest with my viewers, rather than only showing them the picture-perfect moments,” she told Insider.
Not having any other option (you typically can’t just go and buy a dress off the rack, as those require alterations, which take a long time), she kept moving forward until it was one week til the wedding. Encouraging messages from her followers kept her spirits up, the promise she’d made to the project at the very beginning providing her with a sense of accountability.
However, “the biggest motivator was definitely seeing for myself if I could pull my idea and vision off, and the thought of having the dress as a memory for life really kept me going, too.”
But all that didn’t deter her! Just 4 days before the big day, the dress was finished and Kika got to have a well-deserved rest
Image credits: kutovakika
Everything was done. She finished her dress on Tuesday, feeling more tired and frustrated than elated, but once she put it on for the ceremony, she couldn’t have been happier with the end result.
Kika got married to her husband Jukka Heino on Saturday, September 10, at their new home (which inspired the cottage-themed wedding tone), just 4 days after she’d finished her dress. Although her partner was a bit more skeptical about her last-minute knitting project, “in the end, he was super impressed and proud of me, and thought it looked really good too,” Kika said.
Image credits: kutovakika
Kika told Bored Panda that they’d met back in Spring of 2020, when she moved back home to Finland from London, as the pandemic put the world in lockdown. “Just a few months after moving back I met Juki and for our first date we walked around in Helsinki for hours since all cafés and bars were closed due to the restrictions,” she said.
“I was immediately drawn to his humor and often colorful stories of his adventures which made me laugh, and of course I found him really handsome. I think he was drawn to my enthusiasm, something we both have in common and my positive attitude towards life.”
She married Jukka Heino on Saturday, September 10, at their new home. Everyone loved her dress, praising her for all the effort she’d put into it
Image credits: kutovakika
“Over the course of the day, guests would come up to me and immediately feel the dress and comment on it. It sometimes felt likе they were more interested in the dress than in me, but I love talking about knitting, so I didn’t mind too much,” she told Insider.
The entire process demanded around 45 days, roughly 250 hours, and 1.5 kg of pure silk yarn, costing 300 euros, or around $295, which is a bargain when it comes to wedding dresses, which go for $1,800 on average. Her 149k followers on Instagram absolutely loved the journey, jumping in with suggestions and support any time she needed it.
The entire process demanded around 45 days, roughly 250 hours, and 1.5 kg of pure silk yarn, costing 300 euros, or around $295
Image credits: kutovakika
The 46-minute vlog of the whole journey posted on YouTube has garnered over 3.4M views, quickly becoming the highlight of her channel, which has over 253k subscribers that look forward to her knitting tutorials. “I’m absolutely amazed by all the positive attention the video and my dress has gotten, wow!” said Kika.
“I’ve received messages from people all over the world telling me I’ve inspired them to take up knitting again or to learn it, which makes me so glad. I’m also proud that I’ve maybe been able to push the boundaries and show what is possible using knitting.”
According to Kika, “knitting was actually done primarily by men at some point in history, so the fact that knitting nowadays is associated with something mostly feminine hasn’t always been the case.” Knitting is not just for grandmas, y’all!
The 46-minute vlog of the entire process garnered over 3.4M views on YouTube, inspiring hundreds of people to take up or go back to the craft
Image credits: kutovakika
What began as a bonding activity with her grandma when she was 5 years old has become a lifestyle, bringing together likе-minded people from all over the world. The one lesson she’d always kept was to be playful with the craft, rather than searching for perfection.
“With knitting there are a lot of ‘rules’ or principles that come with the territory which sometimes can make it feel likе you’re not doing things the right way,” she told Bored Panda. “My grandmother always encouraged me to make things without getting hung up on perfection, being creative and playful was more important.”
She hopes her followers and those who jumped on the bandwagon to see the final dress get inspired to embrace creative projects they might feel tempted to try—“even if it might feel a bit ambitious, I say go for it!”
We wish Kika and Jukka all the best for their future together and can’t wait to see what’s coming up for them next!
Image credits: kutovakika
A post-pandemic resurgence of knitting is a very welcome sight for many who are getting into arts and crafts for the first time or returning back to the familiar time-passing activity. Recent research shows that knitting has a measurable effect on calming anxiety, relieving stress, and aiding with chronic pain, as well as helping one build a community of friends. And you end up with a cute hat and mittens in the meantime!
“I think knitting as a craft teaches you a lot about patience and really makes you think about what kind of garments you most likе to wear,” Kika said. “When you’re going to spend 40-60 hours making a sweater, you really want to make sure it’s something that is going to stay in your wardrobe for a long time, which makes knitting a very sustainable practice, too.”
Honestly, what’s not to love!? We wish Kika and Jukka all the best for their future together and hope to see many more exciting knitting projects! Let us know your thoughts on the dress in the comments below, and I shall see you in the next one!
People have absolutely loved this project and the final dress. Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!
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