A quiet afternoon it was when I arrived home after school. Nobody was around the house except for Nana, our housekeeper who rushed forward to see me. Her pale skin and frantic movement were very visible.

"Your dad rushed Mama to the hospital. Your mother almost fainted".

"What happened to her?"

Nana said: "She hadn't eaten anything since morning. She's too pale and weak. Can't even stand up."

I never anticipated any impending gloom that morning. Just before I left for school I caught a glimpse of Mom as still in bed as ever. I thought it was just the usual drowsiness she was inclined to for the past few weeks. I never thought her health weakened.

When I hastened to visit Mom at room 412 in St. Mary's Hospital, I was shattered. Indeed, she looked worse. Her fingers trembled. She'd motion that I massage or stroke her head to be relieved of its continuous jarring pain. She refrained from unnecessary talk or motion.

Beside her bed, Dad, though getting weary and tired, kept attending to her. He too wasn't at his health's best.

"Is it serious? Dad, what's the best thing to do?"

Dad answered: "Let's just pray and take care of her".

I sickened at the very thought of the pain Mom felt. If only she'd regain her health like before. She and Dad were so alive then to share with us those unforgettable joyous moments. I know these were my best times.

If only Mom were to get back on her feet, and I earnestly prayed that she got better, I'd be able to return the countless favors she had offered us to relive the wondrous past.

I never left the hospital, and so did Dad. For three weeks, Dad and I patiently attended to her every need. The love and care we gave brought her whole again after three weeks stay at the hospital.