Her Goodbye Came Too Late — But Her Final Words Gave Me Peace

I sat there for a long time, reading and rereading her words. I cried—for the little boy who had waited at the window hoping his mother would come home, for the teenager who pretended he didn’t care, and for the man who never got the chance to ask her why.

No letter could erase what happened. But for the first time, I saw her not as the mother who left, but as a human being who broke under her own pain. And in that realization, something inside me loosened.

I didn’t forgive everything. Some wounds are too deep for that. But I forgave enough to breathe again.

Letting Go of the Past

Continue reading…