3. A mother, only one.

I want to write about my mother. During my mission, she nearly died three times. She didn't even tell me about it in an effort to be a strong supportive mother to me. I would find out by other sources or by deducing it. In one of the letters she wrote me, the left half part of the letter was written higher then the other half-- she had lost her eyesight in one eye after a heart attack. When I was in my last six months, she went into a state of coma and was extremely near death. The doctor, I later found out, said it was beyond him how she managed to survive. Her last coma was a few days before I ended my mission and she was in the hospital as I was saying goodbye to my companions and mission president. My mom knew I was coming home so she forced herself to be better, and somehow came up with the courage and strength to get out of the hospital--to be fine for me, so that I would see her like she was before I left for my mission.

As I got out of the plane (when I arrived to the US), I saw my dad standing alone. I was happy to see him but worried for my mom. He told me she was in the van waiting for me. As I got to the van I saw a different person, physically, but the same loving mother. I never have received a hug like that.

As I mature more and more, I realize there is no love better, more sincere and more persevering than that of a mother. She felt her pain... and she felt mine because she loved me that much. I know that she felt the pains I felt on my mission as well as all the pains and joys I have ever felt. I know that she IS a great women, and a mother above all!

She died 37 days after I got home from my mission. She was 47 years old. That was enough for her to demonstrate her motherhood.

A mother, only one.