Almost a year ago today I was counting down the days until I boarded a flight to Honduras for a spur of the moment style trip. SO much has changed since then. I have crawled in the proverbial hole and am just starting to peak out.
About a week after I returned from my trip I decided to send my mother a photo from my trip that I hadn’t thought about until that moment. Since then I have played back a number of scenarios: What if I had called her 30 minutes earlier, What if I had not sent that photo, What could I have done that would have changed the course of what was to come. A few moments after I sent her the photo I received a response, but it wasn’t from her. My mother was being rushed to the hospital. I froze in front of my computer at work. It was still the middle of the day and I was over 1,000 miles away from her. What in the literal hell was going on and why was this happening?
I tried to calm myself especially seeing as though I was just as paralyzed as she was. It took me a few hours to figure everything out, book a flight, rent a car and finally let my boss know that I had an emergency. I tried my best to remain composed as I commuted home. I barely knew what was going on.
Over time more came to light and she slowly started to recover, but I felt as though I was stuck in very slow moving quick sand. There was hope, a branch jutting out just far enough for me to reach, but when I reached out I could only graze the tree branch with the tips of my fingers.
On her birthday, just two months after her accident she was laughing and telling stories from the rehab facility that she was in. Just about two weeks after her birthday I watched all that work disappear. Doctors had said that she was ready for another surgery, a surgery that they said should take place six months after her initial accident was now considered ‘safe’ after just two months. I guess we should have taken that with a grain of salt. I am glad that I was there to record her last words, we talked about her mother and my father. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but my mother lost her mother around the same age.
While I still talk to her everyday I can no longer hold her hand and kiss her forehead the way that she did for me so many times throughout my life. I have tried to come out of the hole I’ve found so much comfort in, but it has been very hard. This is my first step in making it official, all while carrying my mother with me. Next week I will stand with 30,000 other runners and take on the Boston Marathon course with her tucked in my belt. I had hoped that she could watch the race on tv and cheer for all of the other runners, but unfortunately this will never happen.
Now to keep a smile on my face and do everything possible to make sure I honor her and make her proud of me.