I hold the letter size envelope in my shaky hands as I sit on the couch. I’ve been avoiding opening it for too long. I’ve been avoiding everything and everyone.

Days have passed by, feeling like mere hours as I went through the motions of everyday life without really knowing what I was doing. I was on autopilot. I didn’t care about anything.

I started drowning myself in work, instead of giving myself time to be at home. I didn’t want to give myself the opportunity to think because when my brain started working, everything felt like it was collapsing in on me, burying me under a mountain of rubble.

I run a finger down the length of the seal, tempting myself to open the envelope. It feels heavier than it should, like it weighs five pounds instead of the ounces it actually weighs.

I blow out a breath, closing my eyes as I tear open the envelope.

My heart thunders in my chest, anxiety creeping in. I open my eyes, slipping my hand in the envelope, grasping the mountain of papers that have been concealed since Mom died.

I don’t want to waste another second wondering, thinking…what if. I need to stop avoiding.

I pull out the stack of papers and place them on my lap, discarding the envelope on the floor.

I flip through the documents, seeing information about Mom’s will and finances, but I skip over all of that when I see her handwriting scrawled across a set of papers, addressed to me.

My hands shake, seeing her familiar script.

Maybe I’ll finally have the answers I’ve been looking for.

I throw the other documents to the side and unfold the papers that Mom wrote my name across.

My Dearest Jade,

I’m sorry that you’re reading this, but I hope it helps you move on. I hope it helps you to realize it’s time you live your life, and maybe, just maybe, it gives you a semblance of peace.

I whimper, holding my hand over my mouth, keeping it together long enough to read her last words.

I want you to know that I love you. I have always loved you more than anything else in this world. When I heard you cry the day you were born, I knew nothing would ever be the same. I knew from that moment, I lived and breathed for you. Everyone has a purpose in life, and I didn’t know what mine was until you came into this world. My purpose was to give you life–to be your mother. I want you to know it was an honor. You are my greatest joy, and the one thing I am most proud of on this earth.

I’m sorry I won’t be there to watch you flourish into the remarkable woman I know you are. I’m sorry I won’t get to help you defeat your demons and tell you that you are better than you think you are. Most of all, I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother you deserved.

My hold tightens on the letter as I turn away wiping my tears, not wanting the ink to fade. How could she think she wasn’t enough? She was everything I needed…and more.

You might not understand that, so let me explain. I knew your father was cheating, and I knew he made you hide it from me. You’ll understand one day, but a woman always knows when she isn’t her husband’s priority anymore–when she isn’t the reason he gets up every morning. I should have left him and taken you with me the day he hit me. I should have shown you that you deserve to be treated like you are the rarest creature on Earth.

I watched you over the years harden yourself to those around you. I watched as hate grew in your eyes for the man who was supposed love and cherish you. I’m sorry for that. And I want you to know that I love you for trying to protect me from his actions. You were so young and shouldn’t have had to deal with that burden.

I also know he left, even though you didn’t tell me. I know because I told him to leave. I told him not to come back to the hospital. I told him to stop being your burden. I hope you forgive me for that. I know he’s your father, but you don’t need him weighing you down, and should you decide you want him around, I will not fault you. After all, he is your dad.

I gasp, not believing what she did. She was strong enough to send Dad away when I wasn’t. I should have told him to leave, but I thought she wanted him there. Turns out, neither of us needed him.

In my death, there is one thing I want from you–one thing I want you to do for me. Live, Jade. I want you to have a life, not keep going like you have been. I want you to love and have a career. I want you to have friends and be happy because it’s been so long since I’ve seen you smile. So long since I’ve seen you care about anything besides me. I think Hudson might be it for you. The one to show you something more–to make you come to terms with the fact that you need more than what you’ve been giving yourself.

I discard the first page, placing it on the couch beside me when her words run out. I continue reading the next page, clenching my jaw to keep from folding in on myself.

I’m sure you’ve seen the papers in this envelope, and you’re probably wondering how I managed to pay for a life insurance policy when we struggled to keep afloat most months. It doesn’t matter. I knew I needed to take care of you anyway I could, and this is the only way I knew how. All that matters is I know you’ll be okay now that I’m gone.

I know you think I gave up on you by refusing surgery, but I didn’t. I died so you could live. I said I knew what my purpose was the day you were born. My purpose was to make sure you had everything you could imagine and everything you deserved. This is the way it was meant to be. This is me giving you your life back.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Mom.

Be free from the chains that have bound you in this life.

P.S. Your Dad doesn’t know about the insurance policy, so he won’t come looking for a hand out from you.

I sniff, keeping my nose from running as tears stream down my face. My body shakes with each sob, and as much as I want to stop crying, I can’t.

I place her note to the side, revealing one of my drawings. I pause, shaking my head in disbelief. It’s the drawing I never showed her. The one that won me a scholarship for college. The one I never let her see, but somehow, she found it.

The theme was to draw something that inspires you, something that drives you. So I drew the one thing I’d admired above all else. Her. I drew my mom, catching every detail of her face. Each line and the sparkle in her eyes that never dimmed with her brown hair, long and thick, framing her face. She was always my hero, and she always will be.

I pick up the stack of papers and skim through them, but I stop when I reach her insurance policy. A policy worth $900,000.

My mouth drops open as I stare at the number, blinking my eyes several times, making sure I’m seeing correctly.

This is me giving you your life back.

I drop the papers and curl up on the couch, crying.

She gave up everything for me, including her life. She thought she was doing it for me. She thought she could give me something in her death. But I’m starting to think I wasn’t worth her life. Because if I’m being honest I’d rather have her alive and well, instead of buried ten feet under the ground. I’d rather have her arms wrapped around me. I’d rather hear the sound of her voice. Instead, I’m crying on the couch alone–unworthy of her sacrifice.