AnnaMaria
When I was little, Mom used to take me for walks.
And every time we came home, she’d lock herself in the bathroom and cry.
At the time, I thought she cried because she was sad. She’d always emerge with a smile and say, “Mommy’s fine,” and suddenly everything seemed okay again.
It took me growing up — and losing her — to understand the truth.
She wasn’t crying out of weakness. She was crying because strength has a cost — and she paid it every single day for me.
Back then, I didn’t understand why those peaceful walks always ended with quiet sobs behind a closed door. All I knew was that she would wipe her eyes, smile at me, and then return to making my favorite snacks or reading me bedtime stories, pretending the weight of the world wasn’t on her shoulders.
She wanted my childhood to be filled with happiness, even when her own heart felt heavy.
As I grew older, life revealed its own challenges. I began to understand the immense difficulty of balancing responsibilities, emotions, and expectations. Only then did I start to see my mother not just as “Mom,” but as a woman who tried her absolute best every single day.
She never complained. She never asked for sympathy. She simply chose love and sacrifice, even on days when she felt overwhelmed.
Looking back now, I realize her tears were not a sign of weakness, but of incredible strength. She carried worries she never spoke about, fears she never shared, and dreams she tucked away — all to give me a better future.
Every tear she shed was a silent battle she fought to protect my innocence, keeping the world’s burdens from pressing on my young shoulders.
If I could talk to her today, I would hold her hands and tell her I see her now — truly see her. I would thank her for every quiet, unseen struggle she endured for my sake.
Though she is no longer here, her love remains my greatest lesson: sometimes the strongest hearts are the ones that cry quietly, yet still choose kindness, hope, and love for the ones who need it most.
