I came across some of my mothers old journals when I was getting dressed the other morning. I sat down with them and started thumbing through – reading random entries. A very sad, socially uncomfortable, lonely person wrote those entries…and it made me sad. I wished I could go back and sit with her, hug her, hold her hand – tell her that we all feel that way at times and that it will get better. I wanted to tell her that I have such wonderful memories of the days we spent at the beach and shopping – the same days that she seemed the most sad on those pages. I don’t know why I didn’t notice all those years ago how she felt; what was going on with her. I wish I had noticed.
I wish I had been a better daughter.
