when Eric and I had been expecting our child.

We lost the baby early on, and I hadn’t been able to keep anything that reminded me of that time.

But Carol had.

There was also another envelope, marked “Emily.” I opened it, and for the first time, I saw Carol, not as my icy mother-in-law, but as a real woman.

Her words were raw and honest in a way I never imagined. She wrote about losing her husband and the fear that consumed her after his death. How hard it had been to raise Eric, always feeling like she might lose him to the world if she didn’t control everything.

“I know I didn’t show it,” she wrote, “but I loved you, Emily.

You were everything I hoped Eric would find in a partner. Strong, kind, patient. You brought light into our family when I’d long since given up on feeling it.”

She went on to explain that the items in the storeroom were things that reminded her of me, Eric, and the life we had built together, as well as the future that lay ahead for us.

“I wasn’t good at saying these things out loud,” she admitted, “but I hope you can see now how much you meant to me, and how glad I am that Eric has you.”

Tears were streaming down my face by the time I finished reading, and they didn’t stop.

My sobs got so loud at one point that I didn’t hear Eric return until he was hugging me.

“Emily? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I croaked, leaning into his embrace.

“Baby, why are you crying?” he asked, staring around the room. “What is all this?”

“It’s your mother and everything that meant something to her,” I sniffed.

“She kept all this, the letters I wrote her, stuff from our wedding, and even the baby booties.”

I handed him Carol’s letter, and his eyes softened as he read it. “Wow,” he said. “She never told me any of this.”

“She didn’t know how,” I said with complete confidence.

I finally understood Carol’s heart. “She had been closed off to the world for too long. But she felt it.

She felt our love. She loved us, too.”

Eric openly wept, and I held him, crying with him.

After a while, we composed ourselves and began sorting through the storeroom. Together, we discovered other precious items—old photos from Eric’s childhood, his school drawings, trophies and awards he had won, and so much more.

Carol had finally revealed the depth of her feelings, and I knew we would keep these mementos in our home forever.

Weeks later, after we packed everything and put her property up for sale, it didn’t feel bittersweet.

We were taking Carol’s treasures—and our newfound understanding of her—home with us.

A year later, we welcomed another Carol into our lives — our baby. I made her wear those booties until they were worn out, and her grandmother’s portrait hung in her room, right by her crib.

Wherever she is now, I know Carol is watching over her granddaughter with all her quiet strength, and her silent, hidden affection.

Source: amomama