I Wanted to Give My Daughter the Videotapes of Her Late Mother on Her 18th Birthday – but My New Wife Had Other Plans

I kept my late wife's memory alive through videotapes. Her voice, laughter, and love were meant to be a gift for our daughter's 18th birthday. But when I went to retrieve them, they were gone. I asked my new wife, and her answer left me frozen, heartbroken... and in tears.

The old videotapes of my late wife, Nicole, sat in a cardboard box on the top shelf of my closet. I'd been keeping them there for almost 16 years, waiting for the right moment. Our daughter Amber was turning 18 in two weeks, and I could hardly contain my excitement. These tapes were all she had left of her mother she had no memory of...

Nicole and I had been college sweethearts. We married young and were ecstatic when she got pregnant with Amber. We documented everything on our old camcorder—Nicole's growing belly, our nervous excitement, and our whispered promises to our unborn child.

But our happiness was short-lived.

When Amber was just two, Nicole was killed by a drunk driver on her way home from visiting her mother. My world collapsed. I fell into a deep depression while trying to raise our daughter alone. For years, I couldn't even think about dating again.

Then I met Lauren five years ago at my sister's birthday party.

Amber was 13 then, and I had finally started to feel like I could breathe again. Lauren was fresh out of a divorce with two college-aged kids of her own. We connected immediately. She understood loss and rebuilding in a way others didn't.

Two years later, we were married, forming our blended family. It felt like a second chance at happiness.

Maybe I was wrong.

I pulled one of the tapes out, running my finger along the plastic casing. The label read "Baby talk - Month 7" in Nicole's neat handwriting.

"What are you doing up there?" Lauren's voice startled me. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Just getting ready for Amber's birthday," I said, carefully placing the tape back in the box. "The big 18."

Lauren's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's nice. What are you planning?"

"Remember those videotapes I told you about? The ones Nicole and I made during her pregnancy? I promised I'd give them to Amber when she turned 18."

I watched as Lauren's expression shifted. The smile vanished, replaced by something I couldn't quite identify.

"Is that really necessary, Nathan? It's been 16 years. Don't you think it's time to move on?"

That night, I couldn't sleep. Lauren's words kept echoing in my head. How could she not understand? These weren't just tapes... they were Amber's heritage and her birthright.

The following morning, I found Lauren in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said, not looking up from her mug. "I just sometimes feel like I'm living in a shadow."

I sat beside her. "Nicole's been gone for 16 years, Lauren. You're not living in anyone's shadow."

"But she was perfect, wasn't she? The model with the flawless face. The fashion designer. The mother who could do no wrong... everything I'm not."

"She wasn't perfect," I said softly. "No one is. But she was Amber's mother. And these tapes are all Amber has of her."

Lauren's eyes filled with tears. "And what about me? What am I to Amber?"

"You're her stepmother. You've been there for her for five years now. That matters."

"But it's not the same, right?" She looked up at me, her face streaked with tears. "I'll never be Nicole."

I reached across the table and took her hand. "I don't want you to be Nicole. I love you for who you are."

"Do you really?"

"Yes." I hugged her, pressing a soft kiss to her head, but my chest felt tight. This wasn't new... Lauren always got uneasy whenever I mentioned Nicole. I thought she'd learn to live with it.

But what I didn't see coming was the way she'd shatter my heart.

The next morning, Lauren seemed different. She made breakfast, hugged Amber before she left for her school trip to the mountains, and even kissed me goodbye as I headed to work.

"About last night," she said, clinging to my arm at the door. "I'm sorry. I was being ridiculous."

"It's okay," I said, relieved that the tension had dissipated. "We all have our moments."

She smiled. "Can I see the tapes when you come back? I'd like to understand better."

I hesitated but then nodded. After all, we were a family now, and there shouldn't be secrets between us.

That evening, I showed her the box. I even played one of the tapes on our old VCR, the one I'd kept specifically for this purpose.

Nicole appeared on the screen, her belly round with pregnancy, her smile radiant. "Hello, little one," she said, addressing our unborn baby. "This is your mom. I can't wait to meet you."

I glanced at Lauren, expecting to see discomfort or jealousy. Instead, she was calm.

"She was beautiful," she said flatly.

"Yes, she was," I agreed, turning back to the screen.

"I'm going to bed," Lauren announced suddenly. "Don't stay up too late."

She left without another word, leaving me alone with Nicole's image flickering on the screen.

***

The next morning, I decided to transfer the tapes to a nicer box. The old cardboard one was falling apart, and I wanted everything to be perfect for Amber.

But when I went to retrieve the box of tapes from the closet, it wasn't there.

I searched everywhere—under the bed, in the other closets, and even in the attic. But it was... GONE.

Finally, I found Lauren in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

"Have you seen the box of videotapes?"

She didn't look up. "I threw them away!"

"You WHAT?"

"I threw them away. It's time to move on, Nathan. Those tapes were holding you back... holding all of us back."

"Those weren't yours to throw away! Those were Amber's! They were her mother's!"

Lauren finally looked up, her expression hard. "I'm her mother now. Or at least I'm trying to be. But it's impossible with Nicole's ghost always hovering over us."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Where did you throw them? Maybe we can still—"

"The garbage truck came this morning. They're gone."

My stomach dropped. I stormed outside and yanked open the dumpster lid. But it was empty. The street bins were empty too.

I stood there, breathing heavily, my hands clenched.

I don't remember much of what happened next. I know I yelled. I know Lauren started crying, not the quiet tears from before, but loud, desperate sobs. I walked out of the house, got in my car, and drove aimlessly for hours.

When I returned, the house was quiet. Lauren left a note saying she was staying at her sister's for a few days. "To give you space," she wrote.

I sat on the couch, my head in my hands. How was I going to tell Amber? How could I explain that the one thing she had of her mother was gone forever?

The sound of the front door opening made me look up. Amber stood there, her backpack slung over one shoulder, still wearing the hoodie from her two-day school trip. She looked exhausted but managed a small smile when she saw me.

"Dad? What's wrong?" Her voice was laced with concern, so much like Nicole's that it made my chest ache.

I swallowed hard. "There's something I was planning to give you for your birthday. Something special."

Amber frowned, setting her backpack down. "Yeah?"

I took a shaky breath. "Your mom and I made video tapes while she was pregnant with you. We recorded everything—us talking to you, laughing... dreaming about the day you'd be born. We promised we'd show them to you when you turned 18."

Amber's eyes widened, her breath hitching. "You have tapes of Mom?"

"Had. Lauren threw them away."

"WHAT?? Why would she do that?"

"She said it was time to move on."

"Well, I haven't even had the chance to hold onto anything yet. How can I move on from someone I never knew?"

Her words pierced my heart. "I'm so sorry, Amber. I failed you."

"No, Dad. You didn't fail me. Lauren did."

That night, Amber knocked on my bedroom door. Her eyes were red from crying, but there was determination in them.

"Dad, where does our trash go?"

I looked at her, confused. "The city dump. Why?"

"Then that's where we're going."

We drove across town to the local dumpyard, bribing the gatekeeper with a $50 bill to let us in. Under flickering floodlights, surrounded by mountains of trash, we dug through endless bags, the stench unbearable. Suddenly, Amber let out a choked gasp.

"Dad! I found one!"

My heart leapt. She held up a tape, its label smudged but still readable: "Baby's first kick."

We kept searching and found three more tapes. It wasn't the complete collection, but it was something.

As we walked back to the house, Amber clutched the tapes to her chest. "Thank you, Dad. For not giving up."

"I would never give up on you... or on your mother's memory."

We spent the next few days watching the recovered tapes. They were a bit damaged, but most of the content was still viewable. Amber watched Nicole's face with wonder, soaking in every detail of the mother she never knew.

"She had my laugh," Amber said at one point, her voice filled with awe.

"Yes, she did," I agreed, my heart both breaking and healing at the same time.

When Lauren returned from her sister's, the atmosphere in the house was tense. She tried to apologize, but her words rang hollow.

"I wasn't thinking," she said. "I was just so jealous. I felt like I could never measure up to her."

"You're right," Amber said coldly. "You can't. Because she would never have done something so cruel."

Lauren flinched. "Amber, please. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix what you did. Those tapes were all I had of her."

Lauren turned to me, her eyes pleading. "Nathan, please. Tell her I'm sorry."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw someone I didn't recognize. "I think you should go back to your sister's for a while. We all need some space."

***

Amber's birthday came, and we celebrated with a small party. Just the two of us, plus my parents and Amber's best friend. Lauren was still at her sister's.

After cake and presents, I handed Amber a small, beautifully wrapped box.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Open it," I said softly.

Inside were the tapes we had recovered, along with a flash drive.

"I had them digitized," I explained. "So you'll always have them, no matter what."

Amber's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Dad. This means everything to me."

We watched the tapes together, laughing and crying as Nicole's voice filled the room. It was bittersweet, but it was healing.

Later that night, as Amber was heading to bed, she paused at the door. "Dad? What's going to happen with Lauren?"

I sighed. "I don't know, honey. What she did... it's hard to forgive."

Amber nodded. "You know, Mom would want you to be happy. But she'd also want you to be with someone who respects her memory, not someone who tries to erase it."

"When did you get so wise?" I asked, smiling through my tears.

"I get it from my mom," she replied, and closed the door.

***

A week later, I met Lauren at a coffee shop. She looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed.

"I've been thinking," I said, after we'd both gotten our drinks. "About us. About what happened."

"I'm so sorry, Nathan. I don't know what came over me. I was just so jealous, and I've been feeling so insecure, and—"

"Lauren," I interrupted. "I understand jealousy and insecurity. But what I don't understand is cruelty."

She looked down. "I know. It was unforgivable."

"Yes, it was."

She looked up, her eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think we need to end this. Not just because of what you did, but because of what it revealed about you. About us."

"Nathan, please," she begged. "We can work through this. I'll get therapy. I'll make it up to Amber."

"Some things can't be made up. Some things, once broken, can't be fixed."

She started to cry. "I love you."

"I know, but sometimes, love isn't enough."

Six months later, the divorce was finalized. Lauren moved back to her hometown, and we rarely spoke except about practical matters.

Amber thrived in her first year of college, studying film, inspired by the tapes of her mother.

As for me, I was healing. Slowly, but surely.

One evening, Amber called me from college. "Dad, I've been working on a project. I want you to see it."

She sent me a link to a video. It was a montage of clips from Nicole's tapes, interspersed with new footage Amber had shot of herself in the same locations, doing the same things.

"It's called 'Echoes,'" she explained. "It's about how we carry the people we love with us, even when they're gone."

As I watched Nicole's face fade into Amber's, their smiles mirroring each other across time, a quiet warmth filled my chest.

The tapes were just objects. But the love they represented was the real treasure... and that was something no one could ever throw away.

Here's another story: In our house, Dad ruled, Mom served, and we kids were invisible. Then we took a risk to open his eyes... never expecting it to change everything.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.