**Diary Entry**
«Mum, you left the light on again all night!» James said irritably as he walked into the kitchen.
«Oh, I mustve dozed off, love Was watching telly and didnt realise,» she replied with a tired smile.
«At your age, you should be resting, not staying up late.»
His mother said nothing, just pulled her dressing gown tighter to hide how the cold made her shiver.
James lived in the same town but rarely visitedonly «when he found the time.»
«I brought you some fruit and your blood pressure tablets,» he said briskly.
«Thank you, son. God bless you,» she whispered.
She reached to touch his cheek, but he stepped back.
«Got to dashwork meeting. Ill ring you this week.»
«Alright, love. Take care,» she murmured.
After he left, she stood by the window a long while, watching him disappear around the corner. She pressed a hand to her chest and whispered,
«Take care because I wont be here much longer.»
The next morning, the postman dropped something into the rusty old letterbox.
Margaret slowly walked to the gate and pulled out an envelope labelled:
*»For my son James, when Im gone.»*
She sat at the table and began writing in shaky script:
*»My dearest, if youre reading this, I didnt get to say all I wanted. Know thismothers never really die. They hide inside their childrens hearts, so the ache isnt so sharp.»*
She put down the pen, gazing 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 in body, but in spirit.»*
She wiped her tears, sealed the letter, and wrote on it:
*»Leave by the gate the day Im gone.»*
Three weeks later, the phone rang.
«Mr. James? This is the nurse from St. Marys Your mum passed last night.»
He closed his eyes in silence.
When he entered her house, it smelled of lavender and quiet. Her favourite teacup sat on the table; the clock on the wall had stopped long ago.
In the letterbox was an envelope with his name.
His hands trembled as he opened it. Her handwriting.
*»Dont cry, love. Tears wont bring back whats lost. In the wardrobe, theres your blue jumper. I washed it so many timesit still smells like childhood.»*
James broke. Each word struck deeper than any reproach.
*»Dont blame yourself. I knew you had your own life. Mothers live on scraps of their childrens time. You called rarely, but every call was a gift. I dont want your grief. I want you to rememberI was proud of you.»*
At the bottom:
*»When youre cold, put your hand on your chest. That warmth? My heart still beats in yours.»*
He sank to his knees, clutching the letter.
«Mum why didnt I visit more?»
The house answered with silence. He slept right there on the floor.
When dawn came, sunlight peeked through the lace curtains. He wandered the rooms, touching her teacups, photos, the dressing gown draped over a chair.
On the fridge, a note:
*»Jamie, Ive made shepherds pieits in the freezer. Knew youd forget to eat.»*
He wept again.
Days passed, but peace didnt come. He went to work but his mind stayed in that house with the yellow curtains.
One Saturday, he couldnt bear ithe went back.
He opened the window, and birdsong rushed in.
The postman came up the path.
«Morning, Mr. James. So sorry for your loss.»
«Thank you.»
«Your mum left another letter. Said to give it when you came back.»
He opened it. That familiar handwriting.
*»Son, if youre here, you mustve missed me. This house isnt just an inheritanceits a living memory. Put flowers on the sill. Brew a cuppa. And leave the light onnot just for you, but for me. Maybe Ill see it from above.»*
He smiled through tears.
«Mum the light will stay on every night.»
He stepped outside, gazing at the sky. In the clouds, he almost saw hera faint silhouette in her 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 often returnedwatered the flowers, fixed the fence, boiled the kettlealways for two.
One day, he brought his little boy.
«Your grandma lived here,» he said.
«Where is she now, Dad?»
«Up there. But she hears us.»
The boy waved at the sky.
«Grandma! I love you!»
James smiled through tears.
And in the rustle of the wind, he couldve sworn he heard her:
*»I love you too. Both of you.»*
Because mothers never vanish.
They live onin how you smile, how you rise after a fall, how you say «I love you» to your children.
A mothers love is a letter that always finds its way home. And sometimes, on quiet nights, when the kettle sings and the light spills warm onto the path, James leaves the door ajarjust in case she needs to come back in.
