Ripples Through Time: Reading My Late Mother’s Words—Then My Own
Years before my mother died, she wrote letters to each of her children. To be read after she died. I didn’t wait.
But she also left other writings behind. Last week, I finished reading the final page that I have of my mother’s journals, mostly centered in 1991. She knew her thoughts might be read one day, so she began with a disclaimer: these were simply her unfiltered thoughts, written to help her survive a difficult season.
As I turned those last few pages, I was surprised by the sadness that overcame me. Reading her thoughts had brought back a piece of her—she’s been gone since 2010—and renewed a conversation (albeit only one direction) that death had interrupted but not fully erased.
Words In Time
Because I was reading her journals, I started wondering about my own journals.
I’ve kept journals off and on my whole life. They’ve always been private—a secluded space to process life. But as I read my mother’s reflections, I couldn’t help wondering: if my own daughters read my journals one day, what story would they hear? What kind of ripples am I leaving behind?
So, I’ve decided to take a year and at least glance through my old journals, if not read them thoroughly. It’s an undertaking I may or may not get through, but here I go.
To start, I randomly pulled one from my shelf. On the first page, I saw the date: 1991.
The same year I had just finished reading about in my mother’s journals.
Two women, two generations, living side by side in time on the pages.
Same Year, Different Worlds
In 1991, my mom was struggling as a daughter herself to care for her aging father, my granddaddy, while balancing her other roles of wife, mother, and grandmother.
That same year, I was a newly single mom, caring for my toddler, and trying to figure out how to create a new life that was totally different than what I’d imagined it would be.
We were both hurting in our own worlds.
And even though we loved each other deeply and talked to each other often about many things in our lives, our private journals revealed an unspoken truth: we were protecting each other from the full weight of each other’s pain.
Me with my daughter, mother, great-grandmother, and grandfather
The Quiet Legacy of Ripples
As I read through my mom’s pages, I saw things that were both familiar and strange. I recognized the basic outline—I had known back then when she was traveling and what had been hard or easy each week—but I hadn’t known how much agony she was experiencing through the decisions she was having to make. (I would feel that same agony years later when we had to make similar decisions about her care.)
In my own pages, I’m reading things I both remember and have forgotten. Some things cause me to laugh out loud; other things make me cringe (I’ve ripped up and thrown out several pages already that I definitely don’t want my daughters to read).
Reading both journals at once is shifting the way I think about legacy.
Not the grand, headline-making kind that we often hear about—“Create your own legacy!”—but the quieter, more ordinary, and maybe more human kind.
We each create tiny ripples every day—through our words, choices, and even our silences about the heartaches and joys we share, and the ones we keep close.
Lessons from the Ripples
Here’s what I’m learning from reading both my mother’s and my own words:
- Our words matter, even the unspoken ones.
Not all words have to be spoken—sometimes writing the words gives us power enough to uncover complex truths, things we may not verbalize, but things that make a difference nonetheless. - We are both senders and receivers of ripples.
My mom couldn’t have known that her scribbles from 34 years ago in 1991 would one day help me see both of us more clearly in 2025. - Pain can be a bridge of connection.
Even though the specifics of my mom’s struggles and my own were different, the ache running through our stories was similar and universal. - The past voice can comfort the present self—and vice versa.
Hearing my mom’s voice and rereading my own has shown me the progress I’ve made in some areas, but also revealed how some things remain just the same. I can be compassionate toward each of those selves.
The Work of Words
I wish I could, but I can’t go back in time and be more aware of my mother’s hardest days, or be kinder to the fragile woman I was myself in those years.
But I can honor both of them now.
I can thank them—the woman she was, and the woman she raised—for doing their best with what they knew then.
Without realizing it, we were both rippling through time—catching old waves and creating new ones. Offering grace, making memories, and spreading love in the ways we knew how.
The Ripples Continue
Whether words in a journal are ever read again or quietly fade away through time, we can trust they’ve done their work.
They’ve met their purpose—helping shape who we are, who we’re becoming, and what we’re sending out into the world.
One sentence at a time, they continue to ripple throughout time, whispering:
We were here. And we mattered.
Who has rippled the most into your life—and who do you want to ripple into? Share your thoughts in the comments.
Read more:
- When You Can’t Get in the Game: Finding Purpose from the Bleachers
- Don’t Put It Off: 5 Questions to Ask Now to Discover Your 2026 Word
Beautiful reflection, Lisa. I lost my Mom just 2 years ago, but in going through her things and reading some of her writings, notes, etc. (she did not keep a journal) I saw what I wasn’t able to see while she was alive. It brought me sadness to realize how she struggled with depression but was fearful no one would understand. It also showed me how similar our thought processes were, and a strength I never knew she had. Like you, I can’t go back, but I choose to hoor her words today.
I do keep a journal and have recently thought about those who might read it after I’m gone. After reading my mother’s words, I realized how my words may impact my children. I find comfort in your reflection on the universality of our experiences. Thank you for reminding that while the past is the past, it still impacts the future.
I’m sorry you lost your mom so recently, Donna. Two years seems such a short time ago. I love your decision to honor her words now. There’s so much about our parents (well, about anyone) that we couldn’t quite see based on our relationship, but each relationship makes an impact and contains value. Thanks for sharing.
You have reminded me here, Lisa, that I absolutely have to take the time to go through my many journals I still have. I’m sure there are things recorded there that I wouldn’t want my own daughter to have to read, or anyone else for that matter. Reading your mother’s writing alongside your own surely has deepened the love and respect you still have for her. We all leave ripples in time.
Blessings!
It’s a daunting task to begin reading through our journals, especially if we’ve been writing for years, like I’m sure you have too, Martha. I haven’t made it through even one yet. ha. But I think some will be quicker than others. And I can always choose to just throw some away, unread. But that’s hard for me to do. 🙂
This was so moving. The ripples of time can divide us as parents and children, keeping us from understanding someone in a very different phase of life, but when the waves settle we find we are all just human beings … doing the best we can with what we have.
Beautifully said, Lory: “but when the waves settle we find we are all just human beings.” That sums it up.
This is beautiful, Lisa. So touching. And your final words in “The Ripples Continue” are so comforting. Thank you! Love hugs, and blessings to you!
Thank you, sweet Trudy. I hope you’re doing well. I love how you ripple through the blogosphere with your encouraging comments!
A beautiful post Lisa. How precious to have your mother’s journals, my mother never kept journals but I do. And I know what you mean if my daughters or grandchildren were to start reading them after I’m gone.
I’m very conscious that may happen one day so have also gone through my journals at the end of each year, filtering private journalling (for some things are just private) from the words that may be left behind.
Blessings, Jennifer
Ah, that is a great way to do it, Jennifer…I wish I had been organized enough to filter through my journals on a more regular basis (or at all!). I’ve begun doing that daily with photos on my phone, and the small increments of time spent now will save me hours later.
What a beautiful tribute to both your mother and your past self. Journaling truly is so important, in more ways than one. I’ve recently had a lot more downtime since my regular routine has been briefly interrupted with a kitchen makeover. I’ve been spending my extra time catching up on hobbies and chores and what not, but your post makes me think I should get to documenting and journaling!
Interestingly, I decided to go through my own journals during our own house remodeling (well, new painting and flooring). But now that I’ve been putting the house back together, I have less time again. ha. Nonetheless, I’m still trying to carve out at least a 30-minute segment each week though to read through my journals. I hope you enjoy your extra time catching up on things too that you don’t ordinarily get to do.
Beautiful and fascinating, thank you for sharing this. I don’t keep a journal now but have a sort of book I stick tickets and receipts into (when I remember / can be bothered). I have my journals from my year at library school through my first year or two in London but they’re full of Terrible Behaviour once I get to London so not sure what to do with them!
That’s a beautiful practice, Liz. I keep a box for things like that–I just throw things in all year, and at the end of the year, put them in an envelope. It’s much less tidy than your book format. I do occasionally need to look something up and I find myself rummaging through the envelopes to find it, and spend quite a bit of time reminiscing through the memories. Your journals full of “Terrible Behavior” might be an interesting read for you someday! 🙂
I keep wondering what to do about my journals, too, and I occasionally peruse one just to see what I was thinking.
We writers do tend to leave behind a trail of our thoughts, don’t we? It’s been interesting to see my thought process when I was 30 compared to what it is now; some things are similar and some are vastly different. 🙂
This is so beautiful, Lisa. I think a lot of the power in journals–our own and other’s–with the good, bad, and the ugly is that we feel less alone. We understand each other. We realize we all have struggles. How interesting to see the parallels in the 1991 entries. The Circle of Life, indeed. Visiting from the Crazy Little Lovebirds linkup.
You’re exactly right, Jennifer. Even though the details are different, I see so many similarities now between my mom and me as we navigated the various struggles and joys in our lives in different times. It makes me wonder how she would live in the world if she had been born when I was and vice versa.
I am amazed how powerful this word has been for you! This does excited me for both of us and next year’s word! When you first mentioned “RIPPLE” I thought how unique and now I am so inspired to listen for a unique word for next year too that may take me into new adventures…. I too am rereading my old journals and wow does it bring up old emotions again – I read them and its like I relived those moments once again.
I am often asked if I want my kids to read my journals once I am gone and I have made peace with that. I used to think the options were knowing someone would read your journals or destroy them but you offer a third way – keep the journals but tear out the few pages that you choose to keep private and let the others remain. I find that a great option and one to remember to add to the conversation when others ask me.
You always find such powerful one words (and phrases) that have a multitude of meanings, so I look forward to your 2026 choice too. I wish we could have a silent reading party together as we read through our journals. 😉 Although sometimes I do find myself laughing out loud at the things I wrote.
I’ll be honest that it’s been difficult to rip pages out of a journal…but it’s easier than throwing away the whole thing. 🙂
Lisa, what a beautifully written and deeply moving reflection. The way you wove together your mother’s words and your own from the same year was incredibly powerful and such a tender reminder of how our lives ripple across generations in ways we may not even realize. Your insights on legacy, compassion, and the quiet strength in journaling truly resonated. Thank you for sharing this heartfelt post and for joining the WTJR link-up this week.
Rena
https://finewhateverblog.com
Thanks, Rena. I returned my mother’s journal pages to my older sister for safekeeping, and she asked me about our mother’s composition notebook also. What? There’s more? She said she’ll look for them, so tbd on more to come. 🙂
A beautiful post.
When you said you’d read your mother’s journals, I said I might not be courageous enough to do that. I don’t have children, but definitely would not have had the courage to let them read my few journals (which have been destroyed by now).
I’m glad it worked for you, though, even if it was hard sometimes.
Thanks, and I agree that it’s a personal choice on whether to read or not, to destroy or keep. I may not make it through rereading all of mine. I was sporadic when I wrote, so some years I have a lot and some years I have nothing. A lot are workbooks that I filled in the blanks. Those might be easier to just throw away than have to read through.
A lovely reflection, Lisa. You’re lucky to have both your mother’s journals and your own to read and compare.
Thanks, Harry. I am very glad to hear my mother’s fresh words at this point. I think there is a book somewhere out there that my dad filled in, answering questions about his life. He actually hated that sort of thing, so it might feel more jarring to read than my mother’s words, but I would like to try if it can be located.
Love this! It brings back Nana to me too to hear you share about what she was going through. She wasn’t just my Nana at that time, even though as a kid it’s often so one-dimensional how you view your grandmother! … ummm also, I’m out of town but this makes me want to go rip up a lot of journal pages before Addie and Emme could ever see them! ????
Yes, even though I knew that Nana really struggled at that time, I didn’t know the extent of it. I wish now that I could go back and come alongside her as a friend and not just as a daughter. But that’s not how life works, of course. I gave the journal back to Sandy if you ever want to read it someday! Nana said lots of nice things about your dad in there. 🙂
Actually your girls might really get a kick out of reading your journals one day! lol. But yeah, I don’t want that to happen with mine either. Some were definitely for my eyes only. 😉
What a beautifully written post, my friend. I have journaled off and on, but not very steadily. Some of the journals I have already destroyed. After reading here, I am wondering if it’s too late to begin daily journaling that there could be a ripple effect with both our son and our daughter when I am gone. Perhaps it would be something that would draw the two of them closer together? Thank you for the prompting here by sharing your own experience while reading your dear mother’s journals.
Thanks, sweet friend. And I don’t think it’s ever too late to journal. What a wonderful gift that might be for your kids. I finally finished reading through one of my journals yesterday; it was so bittersweet to read about times when I was so happy mixed in with times that I had sorrows and worries. Such is life at every age, just different circumstances.