I'm not sure how to feel today. I can't choose between elation and dread. Either way, a year ago today, my mom's heart stopped and my dad had to start it again.
When we heard about it that afternoon, after she'd been stabilized, we thought the worst was over. We thought "What a scary fluke!! What a relief Dad saved her!"
Tomorrow is the anniversary of when we realized we had celebrated too soon and it occurred to us she might never wake up.
A year ago tomorrow, Brad left work at 9:30, came home to a hysteric wife packing bags, and hustled to help and drive us all straight to the hospital in Dallas. We weren't sure we would make it in time to see her alive.
But we did. And she is. And that is... Well, that is a miracle.
It's a miracle that, at least once a day, when Claire grabs my phone and calls her, that my mom is there to respond, "Is this my little friend?"
I still always wonder what would be happening if things had worked out differently. The thought of having to remove her number from my phone is enough to bring me to tears. (yes, mom, I am sobbing to Brad just thinking about it.) And really, I am a little confused. I can't understand why I still feel so much sorrow mingled with the relief. It's been a year and I still can't even listen to the recordings of when she began to regain consciousness. It's still too fresh.
I love her. I love all she is to us. I love my dad who was there to save her and who has been there every day since.
Happy Alive Day, Mom.