One year ago today, I received the worst phone call I could have ever received. My dad called me early in the morning and told me he was at the hospital with my mom and that I better get there quick. He told me she had had an aneurism. I was so rattled that I was shaking and could hardly make myself think. I woke my kids to get them ready and then my husband called and told me to get there faster; I felt like I was already moving at lightening speed. I gathered the kids and we went to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. How could anyone? My mom, lying in the bed so helpless. Papa (my dad) and I had to make a decision to go ahead with surgery to relieve pressure and try to diagnose what in the world had happened.
As we waited, friends and relatives gathered around. There is a miracle here; however so tiny, but so large, most people probably didn’t notice. My family. We were all there and for those not there in person, they were there and felt. It was like a fortress; the kind that can’t be breeched. We held hands, we prayed, we even managed to laugh a little. Even though we had terrible fears of the unknown that lay ahead, we knew we would get through it together, with God. Although we are not through it yet, and we will never be over losing my mom; we know that we are all in this holding on to one another. That in itself is a miracle.