Dad regained consciousness today, after week in a coma. He could hardly speak, but he managed to smile an awful lot considering what had... happened.
Mother was officially diagnosed with bipolar disorder and given some drugs.
They managed to make some friendly conversation without any shouting, but I don't know if that was because of what had happened or because of the almost ghostly serene atmosphere of the hospital.
Later Mother confessed the whole truth of what had happened.
"I think I got... a little bit drunk... I don't know why. I don't normally drink. I think it was because I wanted to feel a bit better about myself... I don't know myself. Most of it was a blur. And then..."
She broke down into tears again, and I couldn't help but cry as well. There we were, mother and son, sitting on a bed in Mother's bedroom, crying in eachother's arms.
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