Life's Greatest Advice

I sat down on the couch and stared off in a daze. I could hardly think of anything. Though I don't like to admit it, I was frustrated. I couldn't think of a way to overcome the obstacles in front of me. I rarely stress out about anything, but there I was, slowly falling apart. There my mother stood with that annoying frown. Hands on her hips, her head slightly tilted to the side. It was clear that she was almost doing the thinking and planning for me. I hated this look. It almost showed that she was disappointed in me, and that I could do better. Though she hadn't said anything, I knew she was right.

"Mom, stop giving me that look. I can't do it. Just accept it," I told her, clearly hinting that I wanted to be left alone. But right then and there, I knew that she would never accept that hint. She would never just shrug it off and leave the room as if to say, "Ok, I give up." But her white flag never flew. As I finished my statement, I received the most depressing glare that I had seen come from her face in a long time. It showed true disappointment. She looked me in the eyes, and said, "Don't you ever say that you can't do something." Immediately after her stand she left the room, and soon after it registered: I knew that she was right.

I immediately knew that I was wrong for telling her I couldn't do it. My mom, being the toughest and strongest person I know, would never take no for an answer. Soon after she had left the room I remember sitting there, and blaming myself for not acting more maturely.

It had been more than eight years since she lost what seemed like everything. Eight years since that day I came home from elementary school to find that my mom was not there to support and comfort me. Eight years since I found out the news that my mother would never be the same person, both physically and mentally. That day eight years before, I came home to find out that my mom had been hit by a car. I was young, and thought it was only something small, and that she would just come home later, and be the mother she always was. But she didn't. She didn't come home that night, or the night after, or the week after. Finally my world hit the brick wall of this terrible accident. I visited my mom, it was a Saturday morning. My dad brought all four of us kids. My sisters and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital while my dad took my older brother to my mom's room. They came back a few minutes later, a terrible look on my brother's face. My dad gathered my sisters and I together, and led us down the hall to see my mom. It was our turn. My brother turned to me and told me the worst news I had heard yet.

"Sam, don't go. Trust me, you don't want to." Right then my emotions took hold of my imagination. Fear shot through my body. We opened the door to my mother's room, and I took a deep breath. There, lying in the bed, I saw my mom. She never will again look worse. Every part of her body was swollen and cut up or bruised. I went to the side of her bed, and she could see the fear in my eyes. She took my hand in hers, and asked my dad if it was me, because she couldn't tell. Then and there I felt like I no longer had a mom. Her eyes were too swollen and she couldn't even tell if it was her own son. I looked down at the hand holding mine, which was white as a cloud, and swollen. I never said a word in that hospital room. That week I realized the extent of what had happened to my mom. I realized that she had broken numerous bones in her body, and had hundreds of staples in her skin for cuts. I realized that she had lost her right leg, and that she would never be able to run, or maybe even walk again. For a few more weeks we awaited her arrival home, and we visited her as often as we could. She began to heal more and more, but obviously her leg would never come back.

Over the next eight years my mom became the strongest figure I know. She learned to walk with a prosthetic leg. She also lifted weights and did everything she could so that she could live normally again. Now, after eight years, she cleans the house almost every day. She paints the walls, she puts up curtains and wallpaper, she built her chicken coop. All by herself. She has grown to do things that she couldn't do before the accident. But more than any physical strength she exhibits, she gained the emotional strength to live through it all. She stayed positive, and no one can tell her that life is not worth living. Each member of our family knows that she chose to continue her life and improve it for us.

As all of this came back to me, I knew that I could do anything that I put my mind to. I have learned that all sorts of things are possible if I really want to make them happen. My mother did it for her family and yes, coming from her, that bit of advice I received meant a lot to me, and is something that I will never forget.