Dear Mom,
There’s so much I’ve always wanted to tell you but the words never seemed to come out right. Maybe I was afraid they’d sound too small for the love and the ache I carry inside. Maybe I thought you wouldn’t understand the silence between the lines.
You’ve always been strong too strong, maybe. The kind of strength that hides tears behind chores and turns pain into patience. I used to mistake that silence for distance, not realizing it was your way of protecting me from the world’s noise. You taught me how to stand when life knocks me down, even when you were quietly breaking inside.
There were times I wanted to ask you why love sometimes feels like a wound why care can hurt, and why “I’m fine” becomes the shield we wear when our hearts are bleeding. But I never did. I guess I thought mothers are meant to know everything, even what we never say.
If you ever read this, please know I saw you. I saw the nights you didn’t sleep, the sacrifices you never named, the pain you turned into love so that I could dream. I saw the way your eyes dimmed but your smile stayed bright. You were the warmth I never thanked enough.
This isn’t a letter of blame. It’s a whisper of gratitude. You gave me more than I understood resilience, compassion, and the quiet courage to keep going when everything falls apart. You may never hear these words from my lips, but they live in every heartbeat I carry.
One day, I’ll tell you not in tears, but in peace that you were my first home. And that even when I didn’t say it, I loved you beyond words.
With love that never grew old,
Your Daughter, Still Learning You