Not all things are possible but there exist miracles. They may make the impossible possible but it doesn't usually last longer. But I was glad I met that miracle one day in the hospital.
I was young when my Papa died. I was too young to actually take care of him. My other siblings and Mama were the ones who actually took care of him. I remember visiting him in the hospital to send medicines and food. And when he was already home, I was the one who gave him his medicines by following what was written on the schedule made by my sister who was a nurse. By that, I am very sure I have done my part on taking care of him in my own little ways.
Two years later, Mama died. But before that day, I remember the first, second and third times I thought she'll leave us. I was there on those tough times. I thought that if I took part on taking care of Papa, I would do much better for Mama as I am two years older. On the first attempt, she slipped on the floor while cooking for lunch and shouted my name very loudly. I ran towards her. And then we went to the hospital. It was very unexpected.
This miracle I am about to talk happened on the second attempt to bring Mama to the hospital. She got a stroke since the first attempt but it was a little bit okay as she became a little lively. The second attempt happened when I got back from school. They brought Mama to the hospital again. She was sent to the emergency room. I was there beside her crying with two of my sisters. Mama was sleeping but I know there was something wrong.
We were waiting for a doctor to see us. It was the scariest place I've been to because almost every patient died every thirty minutes or something wrong happened. And there were a lot of beeps of different frequencies from different machines. It was chaotic and every patient were fighting for their lives. Mama was one of them but she was calm as she was sleeping.
I didn't want to cry because I don't want my sisters to see me crying. So I was looking away from them but still standing beside Mama. I saw this old lady with very long white hair. She was standing in the center of the wide entrance looking for someone, I assumed. She had a white complexion, and she slowly walked towards a patient and then to another. I saw that the people didn't mind her at all as she tried to talk to them. So I thought maybe she's a stranger for them, too. I was looking at her all the time and she looked at me and walked towards us. She touched Mama and I hated it because I didn't want someone else to touch her rather than us or any doctor/nurse but I didn't act very negatively that time. She started asking questions but she was looking at mama and not at us. I looked at her and somehow saw my grandmother (Mama's mama) as she has also white long hair. She was also wearing a very big red ring and it suited her well. My sisters were crying and crying while talking to her about what happened and some other things I'm not sure of because I wasn't listening. I was spaced out while looking at her. Then she told me to run towards the chapel and pray this and that. Without any hesitation, although I didn't like her touching Mama at first, I ran towards the chapel because I believe in the power of prayer and I know it was right to pray.
I left them. I was crying in the chapel very loudly and helplessly. I didn't care what others think about me. I knew they'd understand. I just cried and prayed and asked for guidance. When I calmed down, after minutes of praying I went back to the emergency room and saw that Mama woke up looking very well. I was very happy to see her smiling at me. My sister then asked if I saw the old lady and I said no. We walked around searching for her in the place but we haven't found her. We want to thank her. I was also surprised to hear that my sisters also saw our grandmother in the form of her. It was a miracle. It was a miracle to see Mama looking well.
Although Mama died on the third attempt of fighting for her life, I was very glad for that miracle. I was very glad because after that, even if Mama can't talk very well, we got time to be with each other. I read her stories, sang songs together, watched TV and I played guitar beside her. Back when she was strong, she would tell me real-life stories about my siblings in their childhood. I loved it. And whenever I got sick, she'll feed me soup in bed. When she was weak, I did everything I could. I did everything. Even not crying in front of her because I know she'll get weak.
It was a fantastic experience. A roller-coaster ride. A seemingly impossible attempt for someone's life. A miracle I am always happy to have witnessed. A beautiful life I am always grateful for.