Hey everyone,
I’ve debated for days whether to share this, but I feel like I need to lay it all out and just maybe, in doing so, release some of the weight that’s been on my heart.
Last week, while packing up my childhood home, a task filled with more sentiment than I was prepared for, I stumbled upon an old, dusty box stuffed into the back corner of my mother’s closet. It was the kind of box that seems out of place, forgotten not just in location but in purpose. The box was unremarkably plain, the cardboard sagging under years of neglect. But what it held inside was anything but ordinary.
I opened it out of curiosity, half expecting to find old clothes or forgotten memorabilia. Inside, to my surprise, were letters, a few childhood drawings, and an old, slightly faded locket that I hadn’t seen in years. I remember it vaguely from my childhood—a small, silver locket with intricate designs, something my mother wore frequently, then suddenly stopped wearing.
The box also contained a bundle of letters tied with a purple ribbon, old and yellowed with age. They were addressed to me, from someone named Emily. I had never known an Emily closely, so I was confused. The first letter I unfolded was dated from a time when I was just a toddler.
It started so tenderly, ‘My dearest Lily…’ My heart skipped a beat. With trembling hands, I read through the letters, each one pouring out love and longing. Emily, it turned out, was my birth mother.
In those pages, Emily spoke of her life, her dreams for me, and her decision to let me be adopted by my mom and dad—she called it the hardest, yet most loving choice of her life. She detailed the difficult circumstances she was in and how she hoped with all her heart that I would be happy and loved. She also explained the locket. It was a gift from her—their way of keeping her love close to me.
As I sat on the floor of that old bedroom, I felt a storm of emotions—confusion, anger, sadness, and a profound sense of longing. Why hadn’t my parents told me about this? Why was this beautiful, painful truth hidden away?
When my mom came upstairs, I was still sitting there, surrounded by letters. She stopped short, her eyes welling with tears, as if seeing the truth spread out on the floor was more than she could bear. We sat silently, the air heavy between us.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quivering slightly. ‘We always meant to tell you, Lily. We just… we thought it was for the best. We loved you so much and never wanted you to feel unwanted.’
My tears were both of anger and understanding. How could I hate them when they had loved me so fiercely? But how could I not feel betrayed, too? It was a tangled web of emotions that I couldn’t easily unravel.
In the days that followed, I read each letter multiple times, soaking in the words, trying to find solace in this newfound truth. I started wearing the locket, feeling it as a comforting weight against my skin, a bridge connecting me to a part of myself I never knew existed.
This discovery has cracked open a door I didn’t know was there, a door to understanding and healing. My relationship with my parents is different now, newer and rawer, but also more genuine. We’re learning to navigate this together, with honesty and love.
Above all, I’ve learned that truth, no matter how deeply buried, inevitably finds its way to the surface, and while it can shatter some things, it also has the power to build something even stronger.
Thanks for listening. 💕
-Lily