Dear Mom Letters Novels & Stories

Narrator’s POV— ( Past Life) “Dear Dad, Trust this letter finds you and mom in good health! I know you must be very sad and devastated after losing me and I can’t even bring myself to imagine what it must be like to lose a grown up daughter whom you have loved more than anything in the world!

And I've regretted it every day since. *I'm not telling you this to make you hate your father. I'm telling you because you deserve to know the truth. And because I hope—I hope you'll be better than us. Kinder. Braver.* *Don't let the past define you, my son. Don't let the sins of your father become your own.* *I love you. I've always loved you. And I'm so proud of the man you're becoming.* *Forever yours,* *Mom* --- Ella read the letter twice.

I smile at her as I run my fingers over my mom’s writing missing her more and wishing she was here to experience this with me. “What is it Sav?” Selena asks. I clutch the letter to my chest begging the tears not to fall. “It’s a letter from my mom” I smile as I think of all the letters, I have received from her, “she has written me letters for special occasions, so I know she has thought of me when it comes to moments like this.” “Just like in ‘P.S. I Love You’ and ‘Dear John’?” Jen asks. I nod my head “Yeah just like them movies,” I chuckle to myself remembering watching that movie with her when she was sick, “I think that’s where she got her inspiration from.”

Not because I had asked him to be but because he had learned when to be present without being asked. The letter was dated two months before my mother died. It was addressed to both of us. Her handwriting was the same slanted urgent script I had seen in the letter to Gerald Luther, but this one was different. Softer. Less rushed. It was not long. Three paragraphs. The first told us she loved us. Simply and without flourish.

Slowly, I opened it, and my eyes began to scan the page that was hidden within. “Dearest Logan,” the letter began. “I am writing this letter to you with the hope that you will never need to read it. But if you are, then know this: I have always loved you, and I always will. Even in death, I’ll never stop loving you. A mother’s love knows no bounds, after all.”

My mother and I still go to the house of Habi. But as weeks fly, I can see mother lessen the wine she drinks before sleeping. However, the Habi Superior says I should remain as a companion on her side. A helper hands me envelopes of letters. All are addressed to my mom and I think these letters are not meant to be sent here in our house.

After I started college, Mom said she'd send me money in installments. "Lucia, you're an adult now. I want you to learn how to manage money, so I'll give you your living expenses in installments." I figured she meant monthly. Maybe weekly, worst case. Then move-in day came. Mom walked around the cafeteria, checked the prices, and sent $8 to my payment app. I stared at my phone. "Mom, did you send the wrong amount?" She smiled. "Silly girl. That's your lunch money for today. I checked already. Just get the cheapest grab-and-go meal. "From now on, ask me for money before each meal." I froze. So by installments, she didn't mean monthly. Or weekly. She meant one meal at a time. By da

Dear Mom & Dad, If you are reading this letter, I am certain I am no more in this world, but before leaving, I’d like to thank you for bringing an orphan like me to your home and loving me like your own daughter. I know the word thank you is just not enough for all the things that you have done for me, but I have nothing more to offer.

Something I can't speak or read. My father steps behind me placing his hands on my shoulders. "It says. Even the blackest of souls can be saved by love." His eyes are red rimmed. They shine with unshed tears. At the very bottom of the box is a letter. I'd know that sweeping curly handwritting anywhere. It belongs to my mother. Her handwritting was alwasy to elegant and pretty. The letter says; to Remington for her mating ceremony. If I didn't know any better; I'd say she knew she wouldn't be here for this day.

After I turn five years of age and have my very own phone, I start receiving strange messages every single day. For some reason, the sender keeps referring to me as their mom. At 3:00 am, they send me another message. "Mom, I saw you in my dreams again. The rain is seeping into the attic. My stepmom told me to use a rag to soak up all the water, but the rag is too small. Even though I tried to wipe it up all night, it still wouldn't dry. Mom, I'm so cold and hungry. I miss you so much…" I tilt my head, looking at the rain pouring outside the window. I then earnestly reply, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Where are you right now? I will bring you something yummy!"