The letter began, “My dearest Catherine, you are stronger than you know, and your worth is not measured by money or titles.” My mother’s familiar, comforting script filled the pages, and as I read, I could hear her voice as if she were sitting beside me.
She wrote about her realization that the world my father inhabited was not one she wanted for me. She had seen the greed and competition that consumed him and had chosen a different path for herself and, by extension, for me. “When you were young,” she continued, “I made a decision to protect you from that life, to give you the gift of freedom to pursue what truly matters.”
My mother had set aside her own modest inheritance, ensuring that I would have a cushion to fall back on if ever I needed it. “Your father never knew,” she wrote, “and I hope you understand why. I wanted you to make your own life, to find joy and fulfillment beyond the confines of wealth.”
