My Mother's Strength and Sacrifices

You know what I find interesting is that when I got injured it was my father who was the most emotional one. Usually it's the other way around and the mother is the most emotional and the father the most calm trying to keep mom calm and keep everything calm and under control. But it was my mother who threw the blanket around me and put me out, went downstairs to call 911, and she was the one who drove to Portland in the middle of the night while my father was a complete mess with everything. I find that very interesting.

My dad is a very non-emotional kind of guy and I was in complete awe that he was the one who was a wreck when my accident occurred. My mother kept it together for the both of them and that had to be tough. Because my father broke down she had to step up and be the strength through the ordeal.

When I arrived at the hospital and my brother Jake made it down he also broke down and was not able to gather the strength to keep calm. I am very close to my brother Jake so I suppose it is not unusual that he would act the way that he did. He paced the floors, going in and out of my room, holding my hand and just looking at me, sometimes speaking softly to me. My father, who is not really the most religious man, took a book of prayers and stood by my bedside that entire month I was in a coma and read prayers from it. My mother on the other hand, did not get a whole lot of time to be by my bedside because she, being the strongest one of them all, was busy tryign to get me covered under insurance and get things in order from over in New York where I was living. I feel terrible that she had to go through what happened to me and have to deal with all the paperwork and insurance work at the same time.

It can be so surprising what roles people play when something happens. I would have bet on my father being the calm one and dealing with all the paperwork and my mother going out of her mind with emotions. But it was exactly the opposite. And I thought my brother Jake would be more angry but once again, he surprised me by extremely sensitive and worried and he was constantly there at the hospital. I mean constantly there. And I love him dearly for it.

And I love my dad for once in his life showing emotion and reading to me even though he wasn't sure if I could hear him. but most all I love you, mom, for finding the strength to deal with everything while I know she just wanted to focus on being by my bedside morning and night.

Now since the accident, my father does not really play much role in my recovery other than taking me to portland every rare once in awhile. Nothing against my dad, he just isn't there in my recovery. My mother however, is my care taker and is the one who dresses my wounds day and night, takes me to therapy, gives me all my pills, comes into my room at 1am and sometimes again at 4am (time subject to change) to give me pain pills and soothe me when I'm crying from the pain. She is am amazing woman. I love my father, I really love him. But it is my mother who has sacrificed her life for me in this accident and recovery. She has given up so much to take care of me and I feel so guilty for it. But I love you mama and I thank you for what you have done and continue to do for me.