As I head down the corridor, I am greeted with high traffic energy and mono-toned colored walls. Upon arrival to Room A423, I’m greeted by doctors, nurses and all sorts of beeping equipment. The space is cramped. The Chaplain speaks in a mixture of sorrow and hope with tired eyes. My son lay there, barely awake as the nurse informs him that I’ve arrived. I search for space to settle myself as close to him as possible. I’d prayed and searched for four days straight to find him dead or alive. I’d traveled over eight hours on that day as my belly ached and my thoughts scattered. It felt like forever. “Snap out of it”… my mind yells to me as I grab his hand and try to keep my composure. The doctor speaks but all I hear is heartbeat and I ask her to write down the list of organs my son has lost.
INSIGHT: Back in 2021, I almost lost my only child. We had spoken just days before he disappeared. My son was supposed to join me for Thanksgiving and I’d asked him to make the macaroni and cheese. Four days go by and I’ve not heard back from him. Now it’s four days til Thanksgiving and nothing. His phone kept ringing and eventually, I only got voicemail. Not cool! I mean, Ray is 26 years old with his own life. I get it. But still…he usually returns my messages. I got nothing. Intuition kicks in. I’m having vivid dreams while wide awake that Ray is in deep trouble. I’m praying. I eventually get to Atlanta and find my son the same day he wakes out of his three-day coma. I’m so grateful. He lives and today is living. Life is fleeting and you have to grab it by the horns and hold on. Cherish all and everything. Take nothing for granted. Love. Repent. Forgive. Laugh. Play. Lastly…live!
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