My mum left our home when I was eleven. One afternoon, she packed her things and walked out.
Dad told me she needed to sort out her life and that we wouldnt be in touch with her for a while. That while turned into years.
I stayed with Dad. Everything changedour routine, our home, my school. Gradually, her name just stopped being mentioned at all.
All through my teenage years, I had no idea where she was. No calls, no letters, no explanations. Birthdays, graduations, other important daysMum never showed. Dad never said a bad word about her but didnt try to find her, either. Whenever I asked, hed just say that she chose to leave and Id have to accept it.
I grew up without her. I couldnt even remember what her voice sounded like. Her face was little more than a blur in a handful of faded photos.
At twenty-eight, I decided to find her. Not because anyone pushed me to, but because I desperately needed answers.
I straight out asked Dad if he knew where she was. He said yes. He had always known which town shed moved to. He explained that, when I was young, he had her address, and over the years hed heard through others that she was still living in the same area. He handed me an address scribbled in an old diary, letting me know he wasnt sure shed still be there.
That weekend, I went to that little town. I asked around in a few shops and a bakery. Someone finally pointed me towards a small house with white bars on the windows and a metal gate.
I knocked on the door.
She answered, not asking who I was, just looked at me and waited for me to speak. I told her my name and that I was her daughter. She didnt seem surprised or show any emotion. She asked me not to come in and so we spoke on the doorstep.
I explained I only wanted to see her and understand why shed left. She told me she had no wish to reconnect and would prefer I didnt contact her again. Then she explained her own mum had left her at eleven, and ever since then, shed learned one thingleave before you get too attached. She said shed never wanted to be a mum. That staying with me had been a decision she was never prepared for, and leaving was the only thing she knew how to do.
I asked why she never reached out as I grew older. She told me Dad always knew how to find her but never called to say she should try to build a relationship with me. To her, that was a sign it was better to keep her distance. She said she didnt want to open old wounds or start over after all this time.
The whole conversation lasted less than fifteen minutes. There was no hug, no drawn-out farewell. She said she hoped I could understand her decision and then closed the door.
I left town that same day.
I havent reached out since. I havent written and havent heard a thing about her.
I keep wonderingwas it a mistake to try and find her?
