Breathing her own air

My mom is a great lady.  She is tough.  She is wise.  Sometimes, she is even funny.  She is so many things to me.  One thing she said she was not, was a caregiver, a nurse.  But, boy, when dad was sick, she stepped up to the plate in that capacity too--and did a great job.  It was totally out of her element, but when someone you love is ill, you do all you can do in your power to make them better, or even just more comfortable.  She exhausted herself for my dad during his illness.  She was like a warrior in battle--and she would say that is exactly how it felt a lot of the time.  But she was also consumed...
Today, she shared with me that just in the last few days, she is feeling a sense of hope, a new found enjoyment in things that (even prior to dad's illness), she never had.  I know her--she is leery, because, well, life has been so stinking hard for a long time.  To have that exhale can be cause for suspicion.  Can it really get better?  Can I really feel better?  Can I find enjoyment in even silly, little things?  The answer may seem obvious to some, but when you are battle weary and struggling with PTSD, the answer is not so quick in coming.  Yes, mom.  You can.  It is better.  You can exhale.  Yes, you will still cry.  You will still be angry.  You will still grieve.  But your God is so good to you, and He is letting you breathe your own air right now--you don't have to wait by the phone for some ominous announcement anymore.  Dad is ok.  As a matter of fact, he is great.  And we are becoming ok too.  It is a slow process, but I am so thrilled that she is feeling a sense of relief.  I am finishing with this song.  It is a simple, but beautiful song that I came upon last night.  It speaks truth for those who are left behind.