She's a trooper..

Lying on the bed, head propped up against some pillows,
she lies an old women. Around her the dimly lit ward filled
with lost faces, all of which tired and worn. And a smile creeps
across her face when we approach. Comfort she desperately
seeks, desperately needs. She squints through eyes that have
seen too much, and reaches out her hand to feel my touch,
and I squeeze back sending all the reassurance i can muster.
Her rough hands show hardship, her journey, her struggle.
She looks up through glazed eyes, longingly at the future
he has worked so hard for, which she now firmly grasps in
her hands, a manifestation of blood and flesh. She must be so
proud, that before her stood her mark on the world, a new world,
and her long nights of toil, when she worked through grit and bone
were never in vain.

And now it seems so clear what she was fighting for all along,
was for him, for me, for my family, for her family.