Journal 62 – My mother’s mental illness

We shared at the class our experience with a mental problem. I forgot about one important event in my early childhood. When I was 10 years old, my loved mother was mentally sick. She was getting on for fifty. She stayed at hospital for a few months. It was a very sad experience, because I was a very sensitive child. My father and I visited my mother many times. I remember this huge hospital complex which consisted of many buildings with black stripes. I didn’t understand then, and I don’t know now what they symbolized.
One time, when my father and I visited my mother, I brought her wild strawberry which I picked up in the forest located next to our home. When we visited my mother the next time, she felt much butter than before. It was a crucial moment in her illness. Maybe these wild strawberries which I gave her from my heart helped her for recovery. My mother got well soon and lived longer than my father. She passed away at the age of 83.
I remember my visits in the complex hospital with great clarity. I remember this sound when doors creaked and slammed. I asked my father, “Father, are there screaming the crazy people?”. When I repeated my question many times, my father lost his patience and said, “Shout up, my son”.
After a few decades, I remember these events with a big pleasure. I loved my parents and I tried to help them. I think that I was a good son. I am convinced that they pray to God in heaven for my health and success.