Six years in the hospital: pain, humility and faith
It was years of suffering and loneliness. Huge bedsores, tissue necrosis, contractures in my joints it is terrible to even remember. I was losing weight rapidly, up to 40 kilograms. The doctors did not disclose: there was no chance. I was prepared for the worst.
My mom was with me day and night. She gave me her life, her health, her time. After the accident, she quit her job, left all her work and literally lived in the hospital room. She slept on a chair next to my bed, took care of me, treated my wounds, made dressings, fed me from a spoon. She became my hands, my feet, my support.
Mom was an amazing person. Her strength of spirit was amazing. She never complained or cried in front of me. She always tried to smile, joke, and support me, even though I could see how hard it was for her.
She taught me patience, humility, faith. She prayed for me every day, invited a bishop to confess me, and brought me spiritual books. It was thanks to my mother that I found my way to God.
But her heart couldn't take it. In her 60th year, Mom died. She gave me all her strength, all her love, but the Lord took her to Himself. Heavenly kingdom to her.
When she was gone, I felt emptiness, pain, despair. I was ready to break. But I remembered how she believed in me, how she prayed for me, how she told me I had to live. And I decided that I would not fail her. I would live and fight because that's what she wanted.
Mom always lived for the sake of others. Her life was filled with care for her loved ones. She worked as an educator, gave her love to children, was religious, kind and patient. She taught me mercy, love for my neighbors, and faith in God. She always put the interests of others above her own.
I am thankful to God that my mother was with me, that she taught me how to live. And I am sure that she looks down on me from heaven and is glad that I didn't break down.