Dear Diary,
I remember that chilly March evening when everything changed. I’d pleaded with Mum, begged her not to do it, but all she did was shove my belongings haphazardly into a rucksack, hand me a few twenty-pound notes, and shove me out the front door. Wed been an ordinary English family, really. There was Mum, Dad, me, and Granddad Walter. For years, things seemed content enoughuntil one day, Mum just stopped caring for herself, and Dad found someone else.
Dads new girlfriend was much younger than him, and she fell pregnant with his child. That betrayal was too much for Mumshe couldnt forgive, and Dad soon left us to be with her. Both Mum and Dad moved on, patching their lives up but leaving no space for me in the process.
It was during my last year at Whitley Grammar when Mum turned up at home with a much younger man hanging around. I was furious. In my frustration, I joined the wrong crowdstarted drinking, hacked my hair short, and dyed it a garish shade of pink. Mum barely spared me a second glance; she just didnt care what I did. So, I kept pushing boundaries, becoming a proper oddball. I scraped through my first year of college but, after yet another row at home, Mum threw me out for good.
She told me outright, Youre a grown woman now, love, and like your father, all I want is my own happiness. Pack up your things and go live with your dad! I was gutted, absolutely desperate, clinging to the last scraps of hope that shed come around. But she just shoved my things into that bag and slammed the door behind me.
I dragged myself over to Dads place, only for him to meet me at the threshold saying, Look, this is my wifes home now, and she wont let you stay. You need to go back and make amends with your mum. With that, he closed the door in my face.
Completely at a loss, I scraped together my last few quid to buy a train ticket north. So much has happened since that night. I ended up in a small Yorkshire town, enrolled in a local further education college, and, when I finished, found work as a cook.
Eventually, I met a bloke, fell head over heels, and married him. We even managed to buy a modest flat togethersomething I never imagined possible. My husband always urged me to forgive my parents. Having grown up in care himself, he knew that longing for family and love better than anyone, and he understood the sting of abandonment.
Still, I kept putting off reconciliation, refusing to make that first move. That was, until my husband finally broke through to me: Youre lucky, you know. You still have a mother and father out there. Dont let pride turn you into an orphan by choice. None of us are faultless, and you owe it to yourself to face them before its too late.
So off we went, back to my hometown. Guided by a mix of nerves and hope, we knocked on the door to my old home. Mum and Dadnow looking their ageopened it together. As soon as Mum saw me, she fell to her knees and begged my forgiveness. In that instant, I realised Id already forgiven them long ago, but Id been too stubborn to admit it.
We all went inside, and I introduced my husband. I told them theyd soon be grandparents. Then, they shared their own story: after I disappeared, Mum and Dad had started looking for me together, which helped them work through their differences. My absence had brought them back together as a family.
Dads second wife, seeing that he still loved Mum, let him go. Later, she married the very man with whom shed cheated on Dad. Dad had believed for years that her child was hisonly for a DNA test after the divorce to prove otherwise. Now, my parents are back together and genuinely happy, and for the first time in years, so am I. My teenage wish came true: my mum and dad sharing a home again, all of us feeling like a proper family.
Looking back, Ive learnt that pride can keep you from the people you need most. It took losing everything to find a way back, and now I know that forgiveness and family are worth far more than stubbornness ever was.
