I grew up in 1950s Pittsburgh, where as a teenager, I gave my very first paycheck to my mother, believing it was the right and loving thing to do. Six decades later, I discovered that same money—untouched—hidden in an old shoebox, along with a letter I had written to her but she never opened. That discovery forced me to face buried truths about our family, my mother, and myself, unraveling everything I thought I understood.