Her final entries, frail and shaky, confessed she wanted to reach out but feared I’d never listen. She left the journal where she knew I might one day find it, trusting that time would reveal the truth.
A Doorway to Healing
Reading her words, years of resentment began to soften. I saw my sister not as a villain, but as someone who had tried—imperfectly—to protect me. I whispered an apology into the quiet, wishing she could hear it.
The past couldn’t be undone, but the truth opened a doorway: compassion, understanding, and the possibility of healing. Gently, I closed the journal, ribbon in hand, ready to step through that doorway at last.
Sometimes, the truth is hidden in plain sight, waiting for time to reveal it. Forgiveness doesn’t erase the past—it frees the heart.