MEMOIR
The Death of Anger and the Birth of Forgiveness
My mother’s journey to recovery
After being in a coma for three days in the intensive care unit, my mother slowly regained consciousness. With eyebrows scrunched together and eyes partially opened she tried to focus. She looked around the hospital room, first at me and then at my sister, trying to comprehend where she was and what had happened to her.
This scene was all too familiar. It was not the first time my mom had ended up in the ICU after a suicide attempt.
The nurse checked her vitals and adjusted the tube in her throat and the IVs in her bruised paper-thin hand.
As my mom became more alert, she also became more agitated. She tried to talk but no words came out. Her eyes darted nervously around the room, seeming to be pleading for help. To calm her, the nurse handed her a piece of chalk and a black chalkboard.
She shouted to be heard over the whirring and beeping of all the machines my mom was hooked up to. “Ruth, don’t try to talk now, you have a tube in your throat.” My mom looked puzzled. So the nurse said, “Ruth, write down on the chalkboard what you are trying to say”.
My mom took the chalk and slowly with an unsteady hand tried to write what she was struggling so…
