Chapter 13
The years passed.
The children grew.
Little Sarah was now ten years old.
Smart.
Funny.
Kind.
She had her father's eyes and her mother's stubbornness.
She was already showing signs of being a leader.
She stood up for the kids at school who were being bullied.
She organized fundraisers for the animal shelter.
She was going to change the world someday.
David was seven.
Full of energy and curiosity.
He loved dinosaurs and space and asking a million questions.
He was the sweetest boy you'd ever meet.
Always giving hugs.
Always telling everyone he loved them.
They were the light of our lives.
The nonprofit continued to grow.
We now had offices in three cities.
We employed a staff of twenty people.
We'd helped thousands of women.
Sarah and I traveled all over the country speaking at conferences.
We met with senators and governors.
We helped pass laws that protected victims of domestic violence.
We made a difference.
Ryan was now the CEO of his own company.
He'd started it from scratch.
It was a construction company that built affordable housing for single mothers and their children.
He'd built dozens of homes.
Giving families a safe place to live.
A fresh start.
He was doing good in the world.
In his own way.
We were happy.
Truly happy.
But then something happened that we never expected.
We got a phone call from Linda.
Diane was sick.
Very sick.
She had cancer.
The doctors said she didn't have long.
A few months at most.
Linda told us that Diane had been asking for Ryan.
That she wanted to see him.
To apologize.
Ryan didn't know what to do.
He came to me.
We talked about it.
For hours.
"I don't know if I can see her," Ryan said. "After everything she did. After everything she put us through."
I nodded.
"I understand," I said. "And whatever you decide, I'll support you. But... maybe you should go. Not for her. For you. So you can have closure. So you can say what you need to say. So you don't have any regrets."
Ryan thought about it.
For days.
Finally, he decided to go.
But he didn't go alone.
I went with him.
And Sarah went with us.
We drove to the small town where Diane was living.
She was staying in a hospice facility.
She was a shadow of the woman we remembered.
Thin.
Pale.
Weak.
Her hair was gone from the chemotherapy.
She looked old.
Fragile.
When she saw Ryan, her eyes filled with tears.
"Ryan," she whispered.
Ryan stood in the doorway.
He didn't go closer.
"Mom," he said.
Diane looked at me.
At Sarah.
Surprise crossed her face.
Then shame.
She looked away.
"I didn't think you'd come," she said to Ryan.
"I almost didn't," Ryan said.
Diane nodded.
"I don't blame you," she said. "I know I've been... terrible. To you. To Emily. To Sarah. I've done things I can never make up for. Things I'll regret for the rest of my life."
Tears streamed down her face.
"I was so afraid of losing you," she said. "Your father left me when you were so small. I thought if you got married, if you had a family of your own, you'd leave me too. I'd be alone. So I tried to control everything. I tried to make sure no one could take you away from me. And in the process, I destroyed everything. I hurt the people I loved most. I lost you anyway."
She looked at me.
"I'm sorry, Emily," she said. "For everything. For the way I treated you. For breaking your leg. For trying to ruin your life. You didn't deserve any of it. You're a good woman. A good wife. A good mother. And I was too blind and too stupid to see it."
She looked at Sarah.
"And I'm sorry to you, Sarah. For what I did to you. For lying about you. For ruining your relationship with Ryan. You were good to my son. You loved him. And I threw it all away because I was scared."
She looked back at Ryan.
"I know saying sorry doesn't fix anything," she said. "I know I can never make up for the pain I caused. But I needed you to know. I needed you to know that I'm sorry. That I love you. And that I'm so proud of the man you've become."
Ryan stood there.
Silent.
Tears streamed down his face.
Finally, he spoke.
"I love you, Mom," he said. "You're my mother. And I'll always love you. But I can never forgive you. Not for what you did to Emily. Not for what you did to Sarah. You hurt the women I love. And I can't forget that."
He paused.
Took a deep breath.
"But I don't hate you anymore," he said. "I used to. For a long time. But now I just... feel sorry for you. You spent your whole life being afraid. And you missed out on so much. On getting to know Emily. On getting to know Sarah. On your grandchildren. You could have had everything. And you threw it all away."
Diane cried harder.
"I know," she whispered. "I know."
Ryan turned to leave.
Then he stopped.
He looked back.
"Goodbye, Mom," he said.
"Goodbye, Ryan," she said.
We walked out.
We didn't look back.
As we drove away, Ryan was quiet.
I held his hand.
Sarah squeezed his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Ryan nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I am. For the first time in a long time, I think I'm really okay."
And he was.
Diane died a month later.
Ryan didn't go to the funeral.
He didn't need to.
He'd already said his goodbye.
May you like
He had closure.
And so did we.
