I Found My Late Mother’s Diary and It Made Me Regret My Whole Life

Tears were running down my face when I read, “Dear diary, I hate that I’ve lied to her. Her father was dangerous—a criminal I had to escape. I kept us poor, hidden, so he’d never find us. I sacrificed everything to keep her safe.” I sat there, stunned. My childhood resentment unraveled. She wasn’t greedy—she was protecting me.

I found her in the kitchen, holding a mug. “Mom, I read your diary,” I said. Her face fell. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was scared he’d come for you.” We talked for hours, untangling years of pain. She’d given up her career, her dreams, to keep me safe. I felt guilty for hating her. We started rebuilding—movie nights, walks, small steps. For the first time, I saw her sacrifices, and I felt closer to her than ever.