I was still drowning in grief when I found the note hidden inside my late mother’s Bible. The address written on it led me to a truth I never saw coming.
Before her death, it had always been just me and my mom. I never met my father; she told me he’d died before I was born, and for 42 years I believed her.
When I was little and asked what he looked like, she’d frown and say, “You have his eyes, honey,” and then move on.
I never pushed.
When she was diagnosed with cancer the previous spring, my world narrowed to hospital rooms and test results.
I felt like I forgot how to breathe because she was all I had.
We fought for her life as best we could.
I moved back into her house and drove her to appointments. I cooked, cleaned, and tried to pretend we had more time than we did.
We didn’t.
A few days ago, she passed away.
I was holding her hand in the hospital when she looked at me, tears in her eyes, and whispered, “I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”
She never answered because she had stopped breathing. Machines beeped, nurses and doctors rushed in, and then she was gone.
Those words wouldn’t leave me alone.
Did she want to tell me something, but just ran out of time?
Being without her was so hard that I tried to distract myself to avoid thinking about it.
However, a few days after the funeral, I couldn’t ignore the inevitable: packing up her home into boxes.
I began the process in her bedroom. Her old Bible sat on the nightstand. I picked it up, remembering how she’d read from it every evening.
For a moment, it felt as if she were right there with me.
Suddenly, I noticed a small piece of paper sticking out from between the pages.
I pulled it out.
It was worn and creased.
On it was an address and a date: March 12, 1983. I was born six months later.
The handwriting was hers. It was obvious the note had been important to her because she had kept it hidden for over four decades.
Curiosity niggled at me, and I knew I had to find out what it meant.
I typed the address into my phone.
Maps showed it was three hours away in a small town I’d never visited.
The date wouldn’t stop echoing in my mind, so I slept over at my mom’s place, mulling it over.
***
The following morning, I decided to find out what or who was there. I got ready and drove there.
As I approached, I noticed that the house was small and aging. I almost turned around because it looked abandoned.
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