“I left this letter with Johnson and asked her to keep it hidden until our son’s 18th birthday.’
“I wanted him to be old enough to decide for himself what kind of woman I was.”
“I don’t even know if you can ever forgive me. Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“But if there’s one thing I hope you’ll believe, it’s that leaving was never because I didn’t love our son or you.”
“I loved you both enough to let you hate me.”
“Goldi.”
By the final line, I could barely see through my tears.
Leo sat across from me, completely still.
“She’s my mother?” he whispered.
I looked at Johnson.
“How much did you know?”
“She came to me the night before she left,” she said. “She showed me a letter from her doctor. She said the cancer had already spread.”
“You knew for 18 years?”
“I knew she was sick. I did not know exactly what happened after she left.”
“She never contacted you again?”
“She even refused to tell me where she was going. She only made me promise to give you the letter and to always keep an eye on her son.”
“You watched me hate her.”
Johnson’s face crumpled.
“I watched you raise Leo, and every year I wondered whether keeping my promise was wrong.”
I was devastated that the answers to all my questions had been so near yet so far.
