During Mom’s examination, nurses had removed it.
She kept trying to put it back on, but she had lost so much weight that it no longer fit properly.
Margaret volunteered to keep it safe.
“I was worried it might disappear,” she said. “There are so many people coming in and out of hospital rooms.”
So she placed the ring inside her purse.
For weeks, Margaret and Thomas visited my mother almost every day.
She had no family that anyone could identify.
No name.
No memories.
And they couldn’t bring themselves to abandon her.
The previous night was their anniversary.
After spending weeks going back and forth between home and the hospital, they decided to have one dinner together.
That explained everything.
Thomas had kept looking at his phone because they were waiting for updates about the unidentified woman in room 318.
Then the hospital called.
Mom had suffered a seizure.
“We didn’t even think about the restaurant bill,” Thomas said. “We barely thought about anything. We just came straight here.”
The anger I had been carrying disappeared.
In its place came embarrassment.
“You stayed with her this whole time?”
Margaret looked toward the hospital bed.
“We kept hoping someone would eventually come looking for her.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I did.”
My voice broke.
“I never stopped.”
Then I heard movement.
Mom’s fingers twitched against the blanket.
Her eyelids slowly opened.
At first, her gaze wandered around the room without recognition.
Then her eyes found me.
I stopped breathing.
Her forehead creased.
She stared as though trying to pull my face from somewhere deep inside a fog.
Then she whispered one word.
“Laura?”
Everything inside me broke.
I bent over the bed, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Yes.”
I wrapped my arms around her carefully.
“Yes, Mom. It’s me.”
Her weak hand lifted toward my face.
She touched my cheek.
