Ididn't learn the truth till after Mom died away. I found an old, battered journal in a drawer as I was clearing up her home. Intrigued, I dove into the text.
As I read the entries in the journal, a new aspect of my mother became apparent to me. I was a newborn when the entries started. Her dreams, her love for my dad, and her aspirations for our family were all detailed in her writing. But I learned why she was so thrifty as I read on.
My father's concealed gambling addiction had been a struggle for her. For the sake of our financial stability and the repayment of debts that my father had secretly accrued, she had been diligently attempting to save every last cent. She protected me from the truth of our financial predicament, putting our needs above her own wants and ruining her reputation in my eyes.
Today, I had to drain Cara's college fund" was one particularly striking message. We are now in the midst of Henry's obligations. She would never know. There is no way she could comprehend. However, it was our only option to avoid foreclosure. Someday, I pray she'll be able to forgive me.
It broke my heart. My years of animosity and the hurtful things I spoke to her were founded on falsehoods. She had been there by me the whole time, shielding me from harm, even if it made her seem bad to me.
I held the journal close to my chest while I sobbed for hours. It was too late to apologize or tell her I understood; I had hated her for so long.
I made a solemn vow then and there to carry on her legacy. Let go of the resentment that had harmed our relationship; I would forgive her, just as she had always wished for. I felt bad about every angry phrase and hard moment because I knew she loved me, imperfectly.
Reading my mother's diaries altered my view of my whole existence. The value of empathy and comprehension, as well as the high price of assumptions, were lessons I took away from it. I would always remember the lesson, even if I wish I had known it sooner.