**Diary Entry 12th March**
«Mum, you left the light on all night again!» James said irritably as he stepped into the kitchen.
«Oh, I must have dozed off, love. Got carried away with my show and didnt realise,» she replied with a tired smile.
«At your age, you should be resting, not staying up all hours watching telly.»
His mother simply smiled and didnt argue. She pulled her dressing gown tighter, hiding the way she shivered from the cold.
James lived in the same town but rarely visitedonly when he «found the time.»
«I brought you some fruit and your blood pressure medicine,» he said briskly.
«Thank you, son. May God bless you,» she whispered.
She reached to touch his cheek, but he pulled away.
«Got to dashwork meeting. Ill ring you next week.»
«Alright, darling. Take care,» she said softly.
After he left, she stood by the window a long while, watching him disappear around the corner. Pressing a hand to her chest, she murmured, «Take care I wont be here much longer.»
The next morning, the postman dropped something into the rusty old letterbox.
Margaret shuffled to the gate and pulled out an envelope marked: *»For my son James, when Im gone.»*
She sat at the table, her hand trembling as she wrote:
*»My dearest,*
*If youre reading this, I never got to say what was in my heart.*
*Remember, mothers never really die. They hide inside their childrens hearts so it wont hurt as much.»*
She set the pen down, staring at an old photolittle Jamie with scraped knees.
*»Remember when you fell out of that tree and swore youd never climb again?*
*I taught you to get back up.*
*Now I want you to rise againnot with your body, but with your soul.»*
Wiping her tears, she tucked the letter inside and wrote on the envelope: *»Leave by the gate on the day I pass.»*
Three weeks later, the phone rang.
«Mr. James? This is the nurse from St. Marys Your mother passed last night.»
He closed his eyes in silence.
When he arrived at her house, it smelled of lavender and quiet. Her favourite teacup sat on the table, the wall clock long stopped. In the letterbox was an envelope with his name.
His hands shook as he opened it. Her handwriting.
*»Dont cry, love. Tears wont bring back whats lost.*
*In the wardrobe is your blue jumper. I washed it so many timesit still smells like childhood.»*
James broke down. Every word struck deeper than any reproach.
*»Dont blame yourself. I knew you had your own life.*
*Mothers survive on even the smallest scraps of their childrens time.*
*You rarely called, but every ring was a gift.*
*I dont want your pain. I want you to rememberI was always proud of you.»*
At the bottom: *»When youre cold, put your hand on your chest.*
*That warmth? My heart still beating inside you.»*
He fell to his knees, clutching the letter. «Mum why didnt I visit more?»
The house answered with silence. He slept right there on the floor.
At dawn, sunlight crept through the curtains. He wandered the house, touching her teacups, photos, the dressing gown draped over a chair. On the fridge, a note:
*»Jamie, Ive made shepherds pieits in the freezer. I know youll forget to eat.»*
He wept again.
Days passed, but peace didnt come. He went to work but his mind kept drifting back to the house with yellow curtains.
One Saturday, he returned. He opened the window, and birdsong spilled in.
The postman came up the path. «Afternoon, Mr. James. My condolences.»
«Thank you.»
«Your mum left another letter. Said to give it when you came back.»
He opened it. That same familiar hand:
*»Son,*
*If youre here, you must have missed me.*
*This house isnt just inheritanceits a living memory.*
*Put flowers in the window. Brew a cuppa.*
*And dont leave the light on just for youleave it for me. Maybe Ill see it from up here.»*
He smiled through tears. «Mum Ill keep it on every night.»
Stepping outside, he gazed at the sky. The clouds seemed to form a familiar shapea figure in a floral dressing gown.
«You taught me how to live, Mum Now teach me how to live without you.»
Years passed. The house stayed alive. James visited oftenwatering plants, fixing the fence, always making tea for two.
One day, he brought his little boy.
«Your gran lived here,» he said.
«Where is she now, Dad?»
«Up there. But she hears us.»
The boy waved at the sky. «Gran! I love you!»
James smiled through tears. And in the whisper of the wind, he couldve sworn he heard her reply:
*»I love you too. Both of you.»*
Because mothers never vanish. They live onin the way you smile, the way you rise after a fall, the way you say «I love you» to your own children.
A mothers love is a letter that always finds its way home.
**Lesson learnt:** Time slips away too fast. The things we leave unsaid are the heaviest burdens. Dont wait until its too late to show lovebecause one day, all youll have left are the lights left burning and the words you never spoke.
