If Only You Knew

THIRTEEN

Not too long after, my father and Donna found us in the waiting room, their faces etched with concern. My uncle quickly briefed them on the situation and we all waited anxiously. The minutes felt like hours, until finally, a doctor came to address us.

- Are you Mrs. Ackie's family? he asked, to confirm. Well, Mrs. Ackie suffered two consecutive strokes, the doctor said gravely, and she's currently in a coma.

My heart sank as the doctor spoke, the weight of his words crushing me with their reality. He tried to offer reassurance, mentioning her recent lab results showed signs of early recovery and explained that she would be closely monitored in the ICU over the next couple of weeks. Despite this slight hope, the knowledge that my mother had suffered a stroke tore my heart apart.

- Can we see her? I asked, choking on my words.
- We'll give you some time, the doctor nodded.

A nurse came to guide us shortly after, granting us fifteen minutes, as visiting hours had already ended. Everyone began to walk into the ICU room, when Shawn gently held me back.

- I'll wait for you here, I'll give you some privacy.

I nodded, touched by Shawn's understanding, and squeezed his arm before stepping into the room with my family. The sight of my mother lying motionless in the hospital bed made my heart ache even more. Guilt gnawed at me as I realized how much resentment I had been holding on towards her, despite our recent efforts to mend our relationship.

The room was held in chilling quiet, only the monitors beeped regurlarly. My father went to my Mom's bedside and held her hand, while Donna kept hers on his shoulder. 

- Hey Ama, he spoke softly, we're all here for you, okay?

I approached the other side, hesitating for a moment, as if I could hurt her more, before reaching out to gently kiss her hand. The touch of her cold skin sent shivers down my spine, and I leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, tears rushing down my face.

- I'm here, Mom, I whispered.

My aunt Gloria began softly singing a song in Akan, a west African language. It was a lullaby I knew from my childhood, which was meant to ward off bad dreams. The melody wrapped us in a comforting embrace, soothing our fears even as silent tears streamed down my face.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, transporting me back to my childhood when my mother would sing this song to me to chase away my nightmares. The familiar melody brought a bittersweet sensation, reminding me of the deep connection I once shared with my mother, before the divorce and before our fights.

I closed my eyes, allowing the hauntingly beautiful tune to envelop me, momentarily easing the weight of worry and guilt I felt. It made me hopeful that she would come out of this stronger, and back to being herself. I made a promess to let go of my ego, and cherish her while she was still alive and well.

After what felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, a nurse knocked on the door to let us know that our time was up. Reluctantly, we each took one last lingering look at my mother before stepping away from her bedside.

We all stepped out of the room, and I saw Shawn waiting for me, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he wrapped me in a warm embrace. I clung to him, grateful that he stayed around.

All of us walked out of the hospital, the weight of this event weighing over us. My cousin Anna, my aunt and uncle said their goodbye, promising to come back tomorrow. My father and Donna gave Shawn and me a subtle nod, silently giving us some privacy as they made their way to the car.