But the biggest surprise came a week later.
Dad handed me a letter. “I’ve kept this from you. But I think you’re ready.”
It was a letter from Catherine, dated twelve years ago. A farewell.
In it, she wrote that she had married my father for comfort, for wealth—not love. And when he lost everything, she realized she didn’t have the strength to stay. The letter ended with a sentence I’ll never forget:
“Don’t look for me. I was never meant to be her mother.”
My father hadn’t kept the letter to hurt me. He kept it to remind himself that love isn’t just about who you begin the story with.
