My mom, the single most strong woman on this earth. A mother to seven children, my mom has always been very determined. She knows just how to cope with sticky situations and knows how to process difficult news. But now that the news was about her, she handled it completely differently. 

It was the summer before my eighth grade year, a summer that impacted my entire family. My mom got really sick. Double pneumonia, trouble breathing, and too weak to walk on her own. She stayed in bed all day and wasn’t able to stay awake long enough for a full conversation. She faded more and more into someone my siblings and I didn’t recognize. 

Who was this woman who claims to be my mother? She doesn’t have the same laugh. She rarely smiles. She is cooped up in her room all day, everyday. This woman was merely a shadow of who my mother used to be. The silly, loud, strong, independent woman who always stood up for the underdog. But what would happen now that she was the underdog?

Months had passed and she only continued to get worse. From prescriptions to medications, popping pills that didn’t do a thing. My mom became mentally sick to pair with her physical illness. She fell into a deep depression no one could pull her out of. Her determination faded along with her personality until there was only a silhouette of who she used to be. What was left for her, for us?

My family and I watched my mom fade more and more into a person we didn’t recognize. A person who didn’t watch t.v. with us and who doesn’t make dinner. She doesn’t tell us to have a good day before school and her hugs don’t have the same strength they used to. The laundry is never done and the dishwasher is always dirty. She had fallen into a deep state of depression that she was stuck in for months. 

Appointment on top of doctor visits, my mom had trouble discovering what was truly wrong with her. It was a question that puzzled my family for months and still doesn’t have a clear answer to this day. In fact, we choose to dismiss the subject when it comes up in conversation. We change the topic and continue on. My mother will switch positions in her seat or squirm a little if she’s standing, simply because nearly the thought of that period of time still haunts her. It haunts all of us. 

We don’t speak of her illness all those years ago, or how she lost hearing in her right ear. No one mentions what we experienced that year and are still coping with today. My family and I choose everyday to treat everyday like it’s our last. I tell my mom I love her before I leave in the morning and gives her a big hug as soon as I get home. Her hugs are more comforting nowadays. Now that I have my mom back. She has her laugh back, and she smiles often. This woman is my mother, and she continues to show that everyday. Although, I don’t need her to prove anything, I’m just happy to have my mom back.