This past week, my mom was reviewing the final draft of my book. I asked her to look for any typos or other obvious issues, and she has done a fine job of it. Hopefully I will be able to make all the changes this week and get the book into production. During this review process, however, something happened to my mother that surprised me but shouldn’t have: reading the book affected her so much that one evening I found her in tears.
I found my Mother crying as she was reading my book and when I asked her what was wrong, she said, “I’m so sorry. You have to deal with so much. I’m so sorry you have to live like that.” As you can imagine, it was not my intention to ruin her day when I asked her to proofread my book. I felt guilty that I had asked her to re-live some of the worst times of her life – times when she had no idea if I was going to live or die, times when she was waiting to hear if I’d ever walk again, and times when she had to hear horrible news from doctors again and again.