Saturday, February 07, 2015

My Mother's Visits

Grace Carpenter
My Happy Stroke
Sunday, June 19, 2011

I saw the photos of Gabrielle Giffords the other day. The camera focuses on Giffords' beautiful smile. Her mother is the background, maybe a little care-worn, but smiling.

I don't know if we have many photos of my mother and me together from those six weeks when I was at the hospital and in Spaulding. But my mother was there, every day. If we had a photo, probably you would see my mother smiling proudly, maybe after she had pointed out my latest accomplishment.

For me, a lot of those days blur together: the parade of visitors, the endless procedures, the night awakenings. I do remember that after other people had left, often my mother would stay. As I drifted into and out of consciousness, she sat in a chair by the foot of my bed, quietly reading magazines.

Every so often I would open my eyes, on the cusp of sleep, wondering if she had left.

She was always still there, quietly sitting.

See the original article:

No comments:

Post a Comment