I’m so sorry, Mummy. I don’t even know where to begin. The words feel too small compared to the ache in my chest. I know I’ve disappointed you — with my choices, my silence, maybe even my stubbornness. You’ve always given me your best, even when life wasn’t kind to you. And somehow, I still managed to make you cry.
When I was little, I thought saying “sorry” was enough to fix everything. I’d break a plate or spill your perfume, and you’d sigh, clean up the mess, and smile again. But growing up has taught me that some mistakes can’t be wiped away that easily. They linger, like stains on the heart.
You taught me strength, kindness, and honesty — yet I didn’t always listen. I thought I knew better. I thought independence meant pushing you away. Now, I see that it was your love that made me strong enough to stand on my own. Every sacrifice you made built the ground beneath my feet.
I’m sorry for every harsh word, every door I slammed, every moment I made you doubt your worth as a mother. You never deserved that. You deserve flowers, laughter, and peace. You deserve to know that your love shaped someone who is trying — truly trying — to be better.
If I could hold your hands right now, I’d tell you this: thank you for never giving up on me, even when I gave you every reason to. I’m still learning, still growing, still becoming the person you always believed I could be.
I love you, Mummy — and I’m so sorry.
