I heard myself screaming and fell to my knees.
Peggy called the Inn and told them what happened. She then asked Althea to drive me to Sweet Lily Medical Center. Upon arrival, Tameka, T.J, and Peggy were sitting in the ER waiting room.
I ran to my children and hugged them.
"What happened?" I sobbed.
"He was on I20. A car hit him as he attempted to change lanes, and he slid under a truck," Peggy said.
"What do you mean ‘he slid under a truck?’" I asked.
"Dad was on his motorcycle," T.J. said.
"This is all my fault. If I had of just stayed here, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have been on that motorcycle." I howled.
"Honey, none of this is your fault." Peggy consoled me.
"She's right. Now take a few slow deep breaths. It’s going to be alright." Althea encouraged.
I did as Althea suggested.
Just then a gray-haired doctor who looked to be in his late sixties entered the waiting room. "I'm Dr. Strike. Are you the Jackson family?"
"Yes, how's my husband? Is he okay?"
"Mr. Jackson's broken one of his legs and he's—"
"Is he alive?" T.J. asked, cutting him off.
"Don't say that. Of course, he's alive. Right, Dr. Strike? My husband is alive. Tell my son his dad is alive.” I demanded in between sobs. Both Peggy and Althea set me down.
"Due to his head injury, he's slipped into a coma."
"Noooooooooooooooooooo!" Tameka screamed.
"A coma. Oh, God, no. Jesus, please don't do this to me." I screamed.
"Mom, Dad’s a fighter. He will come out of this.” T.J. hugs me with tears in his eyes.
"Can I please see my daddy?" Tameka begs.
"Right now is a critical time. The next few hours are crucial. I will keep you posted. Mrs. Jackson, we're doing everything in our power to give Mr. Jackson the best care.” Dr. Strike scribbled his cell number on the back of a card and handed it to me.
I took the card and placed it in my purse.
"Why is this happening to me? Why, Lord, why?" I sobbed uncontrollably.
"Clarice, honey, you've got to calm down. Pull yourself together. This is in God's hands. All we can do now is pray," Peggy said.
"Let's go down to the cafeteria and get you something to eat. You don't want to make yourself sick," Althea said.
"I can't eat right now," I said.
"Althea, will you please take Tameka and T.J. to the cafeteria and get them something to eat, and bring Clarice some coffee?” Peggy asked.
"I'm staying here with Mom," T.J. said.
"No, baby, go get you something to eat. I'll be here when you get back."
Both of my kids kissed my cheek.
"We'll be back shortly," Althea said.
"Come on, follow me," Peggy said, grabbing my hand.
"I can't leave. Where are we going?"
"To the Chapel to pray."
I got up from my seat and followed Peggy down what seemed to be a long hallway. I could feel her strength and was glad that she was here by my side.
When we arrived a group of people were down front praying.
We sat on the back pew and waited for them to finish.
After they finished, we exchanged smiles and Peggy stopped to talk to one of the guys. I moved toward the front pew.
"Clarice, this is Pastor Allen," Peggy said as they joined me.
I was shocked to see a pastor dressed down. I was used to the usual suit and tie attire.
"Nice to meet you."
"You as well," he said.
"Clarice, I've asked Pastor to pray for you and for Tommy, if you don't mind."
I nodded.
"Alright, let's stand and grab hands,” Pastor Allen said.
"Lord, how we thank You for this is the day You have made, no matter the circumstance we will rejoice and be glad in it. I come to You, Father, asking for healing for Tommy. Lord, I know You're a healer because Your Word declares it. You can heal and restore him back to health. I stand decreeing that it will be so. I know You, oh God, are the God of miracles. Today I claim those promises for Tommy and for Clarice. I believe in the healing power of faith and prayer, and I ask You to begin a mighty work in both of their lives. Lord, give Clarice peace and strength and give her the faith to believe that all things are possible because with You, God, all things are possible. Lord, protect her from the enemy’s lies and discouragement and give her comfort in knowing that You and You alone are in full control. We call Tommy healed. In Jesus’ name, Amen."
"Amen." Peggy chimed in with her hands lifted towards heaven.
"Lord, thank you, Amen,'' I said in tears.
"Clarice, God wants you to release yourself from this burden you're carrying and surrender to Him. None of this is your fault." Pastor Allen reassured.
"I, I don't know how to do that." I whimpered.
"Just say, ‘Lord I surrender to You,’" he instructed me.
"Lord, I surrender to You. I am so sorry, God. I know I haven't been all that I need to be. I want to have a life in You, with my husband, and my kids. Lord, please heal my husband. Oh, Lord, I need You. We need You. Lord, hold me up, carry me through this because I can't make it without You. My kids and I need You. Jesus, heal my husband and heal my heart. Erase the pain that I've been feeling. Renew my mind, body and soul, in Jesus’ name, Amen."
"Thank you, God, we bless your name," Pastor Allen said.
"Hallelujah! Glory to Your mighty name. Thank you, God, we trust You and claim it done in Jesus’ name." Peggy cried out to God.
I don't know what came over me, but whatever it was, it felt good. I felt refreshed, like a burden had been lifted off me. A sense of peace came over me.
I wailed and Peggy and Pastor Allen both put their arms around me.
"We're all in this together, Clarice. God’s got you and we do too," Pastor Allen said.
"Please feel free to call me if you need anything," he added.
"Thank you, Pastor, I truly appreciate you."
It had been six hours and we still hadn't heard anything about Tommy's condition. Sara had come to take Althea back to the Inn. Tommy, Tameka, and Peggy were all asleep, sprawled out on the sofa. The hospital had given us a private lounge area for families who had loved ones in critical care.
I couldn't sleep. My last conversation replayed in my mind over and over again. I was thankful that I at least got a chance to tell him that I loved him. You never think about those things until it happens to you.
What if that were my last time talking to him? What if I never saw him again? What would we do?
I don't want to be a widow!
Tears began to roll down my face.
"Lord, please give me and Tommy another chance," I whispered.
A light tap on the door caused my heart to skip.
I jumped to my feet and slightly opened the door and eased out to the hallway to talk to Dr. Strike.
"Mrs. Jackson, things are about the same. He still has brain activity and we're still monitoring him closely."
"I want to see my husband.”
He nodded. "I understand.” He led the way.
When we made it to the room, I stopped at the door. Seeing Tommy hooked up to all those machines made me nauseous.
"Take your time,” Dr. Strike said.
I slowly moved forward and made my way to the side of the bed. I rubbed Tommy's hand and placed it in mine. "Tommy, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I love you. I can't imagine my life without you. I need you and the kids need you too."
I laid my head on his chest and began to pray.
"Lord, we need a miracle right now. I don’t know what else to do but to ask You to heal my husband and claim it by faith. I will forever give Your name the glory in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
By the end of the prayer, I was gripping Tommy's hand.
"Honey, if you can hear me, please squeeze my hand."
I felt Tommy's hand move slightly.
I ran to the door.
"Nurse, please call Dr. Strike. I just felt my husband squeeze my hand."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes, now get Dr. Strike ASAP,” I said, raising my voice.
I ran down the hall to tell Peggy and the kids.
"Tommy just squeezed my hand," I said with tears in my eyes. “The nurse is calling Dr. Strike to the room now.”
They all followed me back to the room.
Dr. Strike met us there.
"He squeezed my hand."
"I don't want you to get your hopes up. It could just be reflex."
"My husband is alert! Ask him to squeeze your hand," I said.
The doctor’s voice cracked. He swallowed. “If you can hear me, Mr. Jackson, squeeze my hand.”
All eyes were fixed on Tommy’s hand. And all eyes witnessed the miracle as his fingers wrapped around Dr. Strike's.
“I told you!” I hollered.
I rushed over to the other side of the bed and kissed his head. “Welcome back, sweetheart. Welcome back.”
T.J. and Tameka stood next to me with tears in their eyes.
"Praise God!" Peggy cried.
Over the next few hours, Tommy slowly came back to us. First with his hands. Then by opening his eyes, moving his other leg, and finally by asking for some water. By nightfall, he was asking me to sneak and get him a pork chop basket.
Dr. Strike, of course, needed to run more tests on Tommy. He moved him from critical care to ICU and allowed me to spend the night with him.