**Diary Entry A Lesson in Letting Go**
Lois despised everyone. Especially her mother.
She knew, with absolute certainty, that once she grew up and got out of here, shed track her down.
No, she wasnt planning on throwing herself into her arms, crying, *”Hello, Mummy!”*
She intended to watch her first. Study her. Then make her payfor every year Lois had spent in the childrens home, for every tear shed while her mother had lived comfortably.
Somehow, she never doubted thats exactly how her mother had lived.
Lois had always been in care. As far back as she could remember.
Theyd transferred her several timesbecause she fought. Didnt matter if it was a boy or girl in front of her. They punished her, locked her in isolation, took away sweets. But she still loathed the staff, the other kids, the whole wretched world.
By fourteen, she stopped fightingnot because shed grown fond of anyone, but because they all feared her now.
Bored, shed wander to the far corner of the homes grounds and sit. Just sit, dreaming of the day shed find her mother and take revenge.
Then one day, she heard a strange melody. Lois stilled. It was unlike anything shed heard before.
Music always moved her, but this this tune was beautiful, sadaching, almost. Yet she couldnt place the instrument.
Curious, she crept toward the acacia bushes and pushed them aside. There he wastheir new caretaker. Shed mocked him before.
What was he playing? Straining to see, she lost her balance and tumbled straight into the shrubs.
The man stopped and turned. Lois scrambled up, brushing off leaves furiously, ready to storm offwhen he spoke:
“Want me to teach you?”
She froze. *Her?* Could she ever play like that?
Hesitantly, she stepped closer. The caretaker looked about fifty-five. Odd, a man his age doing this job.
Lois visited him every day. At first, he just showed her how to play the flutelittle wooden ones he carved himself. Silly-looking, yet elegant.
When she finally managed a real melody, she threw her arms around him before she could stop herself. Thats when they first talked properly.
His name was Edward Whitmore. He lived in a small cottage on the homes grounds.
“Why?” she asked. “No family? No home?”
“I had both, Lois. Ten years ago, my Margaret passed. Thought I wouldnt survive itif not for my son, Simon.”
Hed remarrieda pretty woman, but greedy. “Didnt matter, as long as Simon liked her.”
Five years later, Simon died in a car crash. The flata spacious three-bed in the city centrehad been signed over to him.
“His wife packed me a suitcase and sent me on my way,” Edward said flatly.
“Why didnt you fight it?”
“What for? Everyone I loved is gone. Im just waiting my turn now.”
For the first time, Lois hated someone more than her motherEdwards daughter-in-law. She even considered revenge on her *first*.
When Edward learned what festered in this girlthis wolf-cub of a childhe was horrified. How did she bear such hatred?
They talked often. Slowly, Lois thawed. She stopped cutting her hair short, softened. The urge to prove herself with fists faded.
One day, Edward asked, “Lois, youll leave next year. Any idea what youll do?”
She blinked. “No. Never thought beyond finding my mother.”
“And after you take revenge? Then what?”
She left without answering. Stayed away a week. When she returned, she said, “I want to build things.”
The next year was spent preparing for construction college. Uni was too long; maybe later, she thought.
On her last day, they sat on their usual bench. That evening, Lois left for another cityto study, to live. She cried. First time in years.
“Edward, Ill come back. Once Im settled.”
“Lets agree on this: Im not going anywhere. You finish your studies, stand on your own feet. *Then* visit an old man.”
“Youre not old,” she muttered.
At the gate, he pressed a flute into her hands.
—
Fifteen years passed. Lois married latenever found someone who understood her. At thirty, she had a daughter, Catherine, and soon after, divorced. Her joy was in that little girl.
Now, with money to spare, she finally filed a search for her mother.
The truth came faster than expected.
Her mothera poor, lonely womanhad fallen ill two months before giving birth. Cancer. Back then, survival wasnt likely. The doctors warned her: a year, at most.
Shed made the hardest choiceto leave Lois at the hospital. No one judged her.
Lois found her grave. A grand angel statue stood over it now.
She often thought of Edward. But when she returned to the town years later, he was gone. The home had a new director, new staff.
On weekends, she took Catherine to the park. The girl, sharp beyond her years, always concocted reasons to buy extrasweets for every child, bread for ducks, ice cream in summer.
Then one evening, Catherine asked, “Mum, can we get sausage, bread, and juice?”
Lois stared. “Who for this time?”
Catherine grinned. “Better you dont know. Less stress.”
“Cathy, were not going anywhere.”
“Its for a man. He hasnt got a home.”
Lois nearly fainted.
“Hes just old, Mum. No family. Doesnt beghes *embarrassed*. Knows more stories than anyone.”
Speechless, Lois bought everything. They walked to the park.
Cathy pointed. “See? By the pond.”
An unkempt old man sat there, children around him. Relieved, Lois stayed on the bench while Cathy ran ahead.
That night, reading in bed, Lois heard itthe melody. Familiar, haunting.
She burst into Cathys room. The girl looked up, startled. “Mum? Did I wake you?”
“What was *that*?”
“The mans teaching me flute! I cant get this bit right”
Loiss hands trembled. “Here. Let me show you.”
She played the whole tunethen wept. Memories crashed over her. Cathy panicked. “Mum! Was it the music? I wont play it again”
Lois shook her head. She left, returning with an older, darker flute.
“Cathy, where does this man live?”
“By the pond. In boxes, behind the bushes.”
“Get dressed.”
They found him instantly. Cathy called, “Grandad!”
He emerged, squinting. “Whats wrong, love? Shouldnt you be home?”
“Edward. Good evening.”
He flinched. Turned slowly. Stared.
“Lois? Cant be.”
She hugged him tight. “It is. No more feeding mosquitoes. Youre coming home.”
“Where?”
“With me. Without you, Id have nothing. My house is yours.”
All the way back, Edward wiped his eyes. The tears wouldnt stop. If not for Loiss steady grip, hed have stumbled.
But for the first time in years, he knewhe wouldnt die alone.
—
**Lesson learned:** Hate is easy. Letting go? Thats the hard part. But the moment you do, the world gives back what you thought was lost forever.
