Word Count: 1767
Disclaimer: I don't own The Big Bang Theory or the characters.

Leonard sat alone in his old room. The journal lay open in front of him, its pages filled with Beverly's neat handwriting. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what he was about to read.

The first few entries were somewhat mundane - notes about daily life, occasional reflections on family matters. But as Leonard continued reading, the entries became more introspective. Beverly wrote candidly about her struggles with her own insecurities and her difficulties in expressing affection. Leonard found himself drawn into her world, feeling a mixture of empathy and frustration.

In one entry, Beverly described her feelings of inadequacy: " I often feel like I'm failing at being the mother they need. There's a distance between us that I can't seem to bridge. It's as if my emotions are trapped behind an impenetrable wall, and I don't know how to tear it down."

Leonard's heart ached as he read these words. He had always wondered why his mother had seemed so distant and cold, and now, through her own admissions, he began to understand the internal battles she had fought. It didn't necessarily make the pain any less, but it added a layer of context that Leonard had never had before.

Another entry discussed her relationship with Alfred: "Alfred and I have had our share of disagreements. I know I'm not always the easiest person to be around. My emotional distance and his constant work commitments create a rift that neither of us knows how to bridge. I'm worried about the impact this is having on the kids. I wish I could find a way to make things right."

Leonard's fingers traced the words as he read. The acknowledgment of their strained relationship, while painful, was also illuminating. It provided a glimpse into the reasons behind Beverly's behavior, which had often seemed inexplicable. It was clear that Beverly had struggled with her own issues but had been unable to communicate them effectively to her family.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Michael and Samantha were deep in conversation about the estate. They were sorting through documents, making decisions about the division of property, and confronting their own emotions about their mother's passing. Samantha, in particular, found herself reflecting on her memories of Beverly and the way their relationship had evolved over the years.

Michael glanced at his sister, noting the melancholy in her eyes. "This is harder than I thought it would be," he admitted, his voice subdued. "It's strange to think about how much of mom's life was hidden from us."

Samantha nodded, her gaze fixed on a stack of photographs. "I know. I always thought we had a pretty straightforward family, but it feels like there's so much we didn't know. I remember feeling like I was always trying to piece together a puzzle that was missing pieces."

Michael picked up a photograph of Beverly with a young Leonard, a rare moment of genuine joy on her face. "I guess we all were. It's like we were living in separate worlds, and now we're trying to find a way to bring them together."

Back upstairs, Leonard turned another page in the journal. Beverly wrote about her feelings of regret and the mistakes she felt she had made as a mother. "I wish I had been more involved in Leonard's life. I was so wrapped up in my own struggles that I didn't realize how much he was suffering. Maybe my books aren't helping him as much as I thought it would, but it is a good way to spend time with the child."

Leonard's eyes stung with tears. He had always felt a void in his relationship with his mother, and reading her words of regret brought a mix of sorrow and relief. It was painful to see her acknowledge her failures, but it also provided a sense of closure. Beverly had struggled with her own demons, and while it didn't excuse her actions, it did offer an explanation.

As the day wore on, Leonard continued to read, absorbing Beverly's reflections and grappling with the impact they had on him. Each entry seemed to peel back another layer of the complicated relationship he had with his mother. He began to see her not just as the distant figure of his childhood but as a flawed, struggling individual who had tried, in her own way, to make amends.

Eventually, Alfred came upstairs, looking tired but determined. He knocked softly before entering the room, noticing Leonard's emotional state. "How are you holding up?" Alfred asked gently.

Leonard closed the journal, taking a deep breath. "It's a lot to take in. I can see now why things were the way they were. Beverly had her own battles, and it's helped to understand that. But it's still painful to read about it."

Alfred nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "It's never easy to confront these things. But I hope this helps you find some peace. We're all trying to make sense of the past and figure out how to move forward."

Leonard nodded in agreement, feeling a mixture of sadness and relief. "Yeah, I think it does help. It's not going to fix everything, but it gives me a better perspective on what happened."

Downstairs, Michael and Samantha finished their tasks and joined Leonard and Alfred. They shared their own thoughts and feelings, discussing how the estate and their mother's legacy would be handled. The conversation was filled with a mixture of practical decisions and emotional reflections.

As the evening approached, the family gathered for a quiet dinner, the atmosphere more subdued than usual. The process of reading Beverly's journal and dealing with the estate had taken its toll, but it also brought them closer together. They found solace in their shared experiences and the understanding that they were all working through their emotions in their own way.

Leonard looked around the table, seeing his siblings and father with new eyes. Despite the pain and the unresolved issues, there was a sense of connection that had been missing for a long time. The conversation that day and the exposure of long-ignored topics made it easier to feel like a family after so many years apart.

As they ate and talked to each other about lighter subjects – their jobs, their families and what they were up to – Leonard felt as if he was back in his apartment, surrounded with his friends and wife.

As if she had psychic powers and knew he had thought of her, his phone rang. Apologizing, he left the table.

"Hey." He answered, and on the other side he could hear some chatter and the clatter of dishes. "Are you guys having eating too?"

"Oh, sorry, did I interrupt dinner? I can call later." Penny said, her voice still tinged with concern.

"No, no. It's fine. I mean you did interrupt, but it's nice to hear your voice." The sincerity in his voice made her smile, glad to hear him sound much better than he had been for a while. The memory of the night he told her Beverly had died and the way he looked was still a very present moment in her mind, so hearing him so calm and collected was music to her ears.

"It's nice to hear your voice too." She tells him, instead of trying to find words to explain everything she was thinking about. "How are you doing?"

"Dad read her will. She left me this journal, filled with her thoughts and I've been reading through it." There's silence on the other side, save for the background noise that can still be heard. All those people in a house not so far away, ready to jump in a plane to support him in such a difficult moment. He didn't know how to even begin to thank them for that. "It's strange. On one hand, it's like I'm finally getting some answers. Beverly wrote about her struggles and regrets, and it makes me see her in a different light. But it's also really painful to confront all the things she didn't or couldn't do."

Penny nodded sympathetically, as if they were in the same room having this conversation. "I can imagine. It's like a part of her was kept from you all this time, and now you're being asked to piece it together. How are you handling it?"

Leonard shrugged. "It's a mix. There's anger, sadness, and a bit of relief. I can understand more now, but that doesn't erase the hurt."

She now wished to be with him in that moment to hug him, give him some comfort in such a difficult moment. Instead, she struggled with finding the right words from afar. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Leonard smiled faintly, grateful for her support. "Thanks. I think I need to keep reading and see if it helps me make sense of things. But it's comforting to,- I don't know. Know you're just a phone call away."

Penny smiled too. "I'll be here every step of the way." She glanced around at the room behind her, where everyone was laughing at something Emily had said. "I love you."

He takes a moment to try and find in his memory the last time he had said that to her. It seemed forever ago they were in the apartment, living together, and saying that to each other practically every day. He found himself missing everything, even the chaotic days with Sheldon, all of the sudden wanting nothing more than to return to his normal life. He was willing to drive his roommate around just to get a taste of normalcy back.

"I love you too." He told her, his voice soft. "I miss you."

She knows he didn't mean just her. Their life together, the one they had put pause on unexpectedly when Beverly died. She too missed all that, wishing to be back in the apartment in the messy system they found to live together even with Sheldon in the mix and all the dysfunction that seemed to reign in their life. "Me too. So much."

The call ended then, both feeling lighter than they had for a while. Though it all still had a foreign feel, they both felt as it was all becoming more manageable.

End of Chapter 10

I went back and read some old reviews before writing this chapter, and it hit me that I might've sent Penny home too early. So, it's phone calls for now to keep these two connected and let Penny keep supporting her man.

Hope you all enjoy it! Big thanks to everyone who's come back to this story after such a long time—I really appreciate it.