Always there...

I remember my mother sitting in my hospital room at Magee Rehabilitation, in her chair that was on the left side of the bed.  She was always there - simply sitting and waiting.  Encouraging me, listening to me, checking in on me.

She had taken time off work to be with me and moved herself to Philadelphia, staying with friends and at shelters so she could spend almost every day at the hospital.  She was a constant comfort and frustration, and this duality created a strange mix of emotions - there were many times I would feel angry or trapped by her insistence of being there for everything, but simultaneously safety with her presence.

I recognize that having the privilege of a mother being constantly there is something most TBI survivors cannot have, and in some ways I don’t know that it was always a good thing - perhaps building up some co-dependency - but I also recognize that my recovery would have been drastically different without her there.  Her insistence of physically showing that her love was always there inspired me to improve, even when that inspiration came from a desire to have more time away from her.

Blessings tend to comes in a mixed-up muddle of ways, and my the dedication of both my parents, but in this case my mother, was certainly a blessing.