I told her about the Christmases. The empty kitchen. The meals I made and ate alone. The years of waiting.
“I never stopped waiting,” I said. “And I never stopped loving you.”
She smiled—a small, tired smile. “I know, Mom. I know.”
The New Beginning
I stayed in Korea for two months. I met her friends. I visited her office. I saw the life she’d built—a life I had never known existed.
It wasn’t the life I imagined for her. But it was her life. And I was proud of her.
She promised to visit me more often. She promised to call more. And she promised to let me in—to let me be part of her life, not just a recipient of her money.
I flew home with a lighter heart and a clear understanding: my daughter was alive, she was strong, and she had become someone I could admire.
