My mom never liked my wife.
On my wedding day, she cried, “Son, she’s not the one for you!”
I smiled and said, “One day, you’ll love her too.”
She just nodded silently.
Two years later, Mom passed away.
When I went to her house to sort through her things, I felt a lump in my throat. The house was quiet, filled with memories of her voice, her laughter, her cooking — everything I had taken for granted.
As I cleaned each room, I finally reached her bedroom. When I looked under her bed, I froze. There, in a small box, neatly wrapped, were dozens of letters.
They were from my wife.
Old birthday cards, thank-you notes, apologies, even a photo of my wife helping Mom at the hospital. Each one had a note from Mom written on it —
“She’s trying.”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“She really loves him.”
“I wish I could tell her that I love her too.”
Tears filled my eyes. My mom hadn’t hated my wife — she just couldn’t show it.
All those years, she was learning to love her in silence.
And in that moment, I realized —
Mom had loved her… all along. 💔
