Fighting Death

While talking with my mother the other day, we were discussing how the dark days (read: senior year of high school) were survival mode. I was talking and telling Mom that I don't remember much. I remember sleeping in the car because I couldn't move then a week later "waking up" in the psych ward of the ER. I realize that I don't remember that time, but she does. In her eyes I saw just how much pain that caused her as a mother. I saw how helpless she must have felt. I realized to the fullest extent that this woman across the table from me literally fought for a week to keep me alive when, without her, I would have died easily and quickly. I always credit my mother for saving my life, but it wasn't until that moment looking into her eyes that I truly understood the toll this took on her. I didn't realize that my sister's feelings of being forgotten stem from that week where my mother was caring for my life and ignoring everything else. I didn't understand that this woman, this amazing, strong, caring woman, literally kept me alive. She was my lifeline; without her I'd be dead. So in response to this revelation, I thank her. I thank her with every breath I take. I thank her from the bottom of my heart and the darkest corners of my soul. I thank her for everything that she did to save me so that I could live the life I am living so happily today. Thank you Mom.