chapter 2
Three Journeys
I had been impatient to get to Alex, but could I handle what awaited me?
Tears streamed down my face as the doors of the chopper slammed shut. As it began its ascent, I stood back, wondering, Will I ever see my little boy alive again? Yes, that’s it. I had to get to Children’s Hospital immediately.
“Excuse me, sir. Could you please come with me?”
I glanced around at the voice, half dazed and still watching the helicopter recede farther into the blue.
“Sir, excuse me,” continued the paramedic. “Can you come with me?”
While he was still speaking, a stretcher appeared from somewhere and the second paramedic said, “Please, lie down here.”
“Why do I need to lie down?” I protested. My thoughts were now wholly turned to getting to Children’s Hospital as soon as possible.
“We need to get you to the hospital, sir.”
“Me? Hospital? Why do I need to go to the hospital? My son needs to go, and he just left. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get to Children’s in Columbus immediately. Alex needs me.”
For all their politeness, a quick exchange of glances between the paramedics betrayed their determination to take me to the hospital.
“Sir, you’ve been in a major accident,” one of them said. “You need to be seen by a doctor, and going into shock after an event such as this is not uncommon. Thank you for coming with us.” He smiled.
I felt frantic, like a caged animal. My heart started to race again. I can’t go somewhere else. I have to get to Alex! That surge of desperation almost caused me to stand my ground, but I could see that they were resolute. I reasoned that the fastest way to get to Alex was to cooperate and get this over with as quickly as possible. And yes, I probably was in a mild state of shock—but it seemed to me that it was everyone else who was being irrational. Walking toward the ambulance, I realized for the first time that I had a severe limp in my right leg. A sharp pain stabbed my neck when I turned one last time to look at the accident scene.
Finally I let the attendants load me onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. We were off to some local hospital, sirens blaring, and traveling at about four miles per hour, or so it seemed to me. As I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling of the ambulance, my emotions lurched sporadically in every direction: anger, shame, hope, denial, grief. In the end, fear and shame took center stage. Would the next time I saw Alex be in some morbid funeral parlor? How could Beth keep from hating me for what I had done to Alex? What had I done to our family? Shouldn’t I hate myself? This was totally my fault. How could I have been so careless?
In the midst of this mental bombardment, my mind faded to gray and went blank. Shock enveloped me like an impenetrable fog, cushioning my tormented mind from a reality too harsh to face.
+ + +
Before long, I was sitting on the edge of a bed in the emergency room of a local hospital. A nurse impassively drew blood from my left forearm—a procedure legally, not medically, driven. The blood sample would establish my level of sobriety. Had this father killed his son because he couldn’t stay off the bottle? At least I was innocent on that count.
Bearing away my blood samples, the nurse closed the door behind her, and for the first time since regaining consciousness, I was completely alone. Everything was quiet except for the muffled sound of voices in the adjacent room. Rubbing my neck caused a sharp pain, and suddenly the memory of the other car leaped into my mind. What about the people in the other car? I’d never seen the car, never anticipated it, and now I began worrying about the people who were in it—on top of everything else.
The door suddenly swung open.
“What happened to the other car? The people in the other car—how are they?” I blurted out.
“Doing okay. Matter of fact, they’re in the next room,” said the staffer, pointing a thumb toward the wall. Though I couldn’t make out the words, hearing those voices plunged me into a new round of despair. My carelessness had visited misfortune upon people I didn’t even know. The shame pressed against my ribs like a giant vise, forcing me to breathe in short, inadequate gasps. Two competing impulses overtook my thoughts: Couldn’t I become invisible and just float out the window, away from this entire day? And yet I needed to rush into the next room, fall on my knees, and beg for forgiveness, for mercy, telling the other driver and passengers how deeply sorry I was and showing them I wasn’t some irresponsible monster.
In the end, I just stared at the wall where the voices seemed to be coming from. If I had gone in there, it would have been about salving my conscience. I was the last person they wanted to see right now. What did it matter to them who had caused the accident and how that driver felt about it?
In the meantime, another nurse had entered my room and was attempting to get my attention. “Will you follow me, sir? We need to take a few X-rays.”
I followed again and sat restlessly in another waiting room. Hearing a noise, I turned to the door and looked into the eyes of Pastor Brown, who had learned of the accident from a church member who was a nurse at the hospital. His very presence brought peace to my heart in a moment of turmoil I could not control. He sat down beside me, wrapping a consoling arm around my shoulder.
“Kevin, I know you’re anxious about your family. They’re all on their way to Children’s Hospital right now. They’ve been told that you came out of it okay.”
“Pastor, I’ve got to get out of here now and get over to Children’s. I’ve got to see Alex. They’re keeping me here too long. How long before I can get out of here?”
The pastor, understanding how I felt, nodded. “A friend of yours is in the main waiting room right now,” he said. “He’s on standby to take you to Columbus as soon as this place releases you.”
“Thanks, Pastor. You guys are great to look out for me.”
+ + +
The X-rays showed no serious damage, so I was directed back to the emergency room . . . to wait. Thoughts of Alex renewed my sense of urgency to leave. The door swung open again. I looked up.
“Mr. Malarkey . . .” said the doctor, flanked by two nurses.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“We need to keep you overnight for observation. My staff here will make sure you are comfortable.”
The nurses smiled and nodded their heads. Their smiles faded as I rose to my feet and looked directly into each person’s eyes, starting with the doctor. If there was one thing I wasn’t going to do, it was to stay away from Alex for one moment longer. This I made clear—politely, I hope. They seemed to understand that I was resolute and, after a few halfhearted protests about what was best, relented.
I quickly gathered my things and all but ran to the lobby—slowed only by the limp from the accident. Rounding the corner, I saw Kelly before he saw me. I didn’t know Kelly well since we had not been living in this community long, but even so, I could tell he was crestfallen, like he wished he didn’t know what he knew. He brightened, though, upon seeing me.
“Oh, hey, Kevin. I can drive you to the hospital.”
“Great,” I said, “thanks.”
Kelly looked at me somewhat quizzically. “Do you want to stop by your house to get some clothes?”
I was so focused on getting to Alex’s side that I had forgotten (or was I still in shock?) that I was in the hospital gown—the kind with built-in air-conditioning in the back. My clothes had been cut from my body and were in the sack under my arm.
“Here,” Kelly offered, holding out his leather jacket. Hospital gown and leather jacket—I was now dressed for the trip home.
Arriving at the house sent eerie chills through my chest. I knew no one would be there. Even so, the house seemed especially dark, silent, empty. As I looked at the toys scattered across the room, I suddenly realized I hadn’t talked to my children and only very briefly to Beth. What was she feeling? What had the children been told? What did they know?
I’m the man of the family. I was supposed to protect my wife and kids. I wasn’t with them, wasn’t protecting them, and wasn’t comforting them. I was the cause of everything. The darkness of my spirit descended like an angry cloud over my heart. The voice of fear whispered, Beth will hate you for doing this to your family. Shame for the present and fear for the future pierced my heart like talons from the darkness. The mocking voice threatened to drown out all others. Kelly’s presence was God’s provision for me.
Like a continuously looping video, scenes of the accident—or at least as much as I could remember—played in my mind again and again as Kelly drove me to Columbus. There were so many gaps that I ended up in confusion with each new attempt to understand. For some time, Kelly was respectfully quiet, but finally he broke the silence.
“You know, Kevin, from my house, the accident site is on the way to the hospital.”
“So you drove by there on the way to pick me up?”
“Yes, I did,” Kelly said gravely.
“What do you think?”
After a short pause, Kelly continued, his eyes growing moist. “It was really bad, Kevin.”
“What do you think about Alex?” I asked, desperately looking for some reassurance.
“It’s hard to say. Let’s see what we find out at the hospital.”
Kelly wanted to prepare me for what might be, but he tried not to be specific. That would never do for me. I needed answers.
“I need to know what you think, Kelly. Do you think Alex is all right?” Somehow it was important for me to hear him say what his face already revealed.
“Kevin, I don’t think Alex made it. I think that Alex has gone to be with Jesus. I am so sorry, brother.”
I looked out the window as my eyes instantly brimmed with tears, choking back the pain of those words. My heart was breaking. God, I can’t take this. Please don’t make me say good-bye—not this way. Not because I drove out in front of an oncoming car. Oh, God, please save my boy. Please save my firstborn son, my little buddy, Alex.
For the next few miles, while Kelly drove on in silence, waves of pain and grief battered my heart. In the midst of it all, a lone, small voice from somewhere deep within made the case that Kelly couldn’t be certain of Alex’s condition—Don’t stop praying for Alex. Don’t stop.
We pulled up to Children’s Hospital. Kelly parked, turned off the engine, paused, and looked at me.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“This is hard, Kelly.” I grimaced, taking in a deep breath. “You know, Beth and I have driven by here a hundred times. We’ve often talked about how sad a place it is—how we hoped we’d never have to go in there. And now here we are.”
In minutes, I would meet Beth inside those walls. All the countless times Beth had told me to slow down and pay more attention to the road flooded my mind. She had warned me dozens of times to be more cautious, to be more careful with the kids, especially in play activities with Alex and Aaron. I’d always thought she was so overprotective and spent far too much time worrying. It wasn’t that long ago that I had said, “Hey, relax. I didn’t kill them.” How those words haunted me now as I braced myself to face her.
Strength under Pressure
My Beth is one amazing woman. Only one day home from giving birth to our fourth child, she needed to rest and recuperate, but instead she hung up from my phone call and went into high gear, getting the children ready for the hour-and-a-half drive to the hospital in Columbus, which was sixty-five miles away. Many people fall apart under pressure. Not Beth. In the midst of the most stressful situations, Beth is all composure. There may be a raging fire of emotion in her heart, but more than anyone I know, she has the capacity to completely subdue those natural emotions and do what needs to be done without giving the slightest indication of the trauma that has overtaken her. What an amazing blessing these qualities were now.
Beth hadn’t thought too much of the line going dead on our original phone call; we live in a rural area and this happens fairly frequently. The second call was obviously a different matter. God had prepared Beth to some degree for this moment by helping her to endure a variety of previous struggles. Simply put, my wife is able to thrive in difficult situations.
Beth did not need to say anything to our two-day-old son or our two-year-old daughter about the circumstances; they wouldn’t understand what she was talking about. She did tell our four-year-old, Aaron, that there had been a car accident and that they needed to get to the hospital to see his brother. Aaron cried, and she was able to comfort him for the moment. She then packed the three kids into the van and set out for the hospital.
While en route, Beth received a phone call from the emergency room at Children’s.
“Is this Mrs. Malarkey, mother of Alex Malarkey?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Mrs. Malarkey, could you tell us if Alex is allergic to any medicines?”
For the second time, Beth asked an essential question, “Is my son going to live?” And for the second time the answer she received was maddeningly vague.
+ + +
When Mommy told me Alex was hurt bad, I was scared out of my brains and didn’t know what to do. I thought Mommy was lying when she said Alex might be dead because I didn’t think that could be true.
Aaron Malarkey, Alex’s brother
+ + +
“It is serious, Mrs. Malarkey.”
Soon after, Beth called her sister, Kris. She told her the little she knew of the situation. Kris is a registered nurse and a wonderfully supportive and empathetic person. After a brief conversation, Beth returned to her driving. She says she never drove over the speed limit during the entire drive, and I believe her. In fact, I have never seen her speed. That’s Beth: a rock under pressure.
As Beth pulled into the parking lot at the hospital, she spotted a man wearing a MedFlight uniform. She quickly backed up, rolled down the window, and called out to him, “I have a six-year-old son who just arrived by helicopter. Were you on that flight?”
The man walked over to her. “Yes, ma’am. My name’s Dave.”
“Is my son all right? How bad was it?”
Looking into Beth’s eyes, Dave said, “I have a question for you.”
“Yes?” Beth said quizzically.
“Are you a Christian?”
“Yes, I am,” Beth answered, wondering where this was going.
“Then listen to me,” Dave continued, intently looking into Beth’s eyes. “You’re going to go in the trauma room and you’re going to hear some horrible things. In fact, they’re going to tell you your son’s going to die. But I laid hands on your son and prayed for him in the name of Jesus. I’m telling you, he’s not going to die.
“Now you definitely have a part to play in all this. The Lord is already beginning the healing, but when you go in there, fear will try to attack your thinking. I’m not telling you to go in there and argue. Be polite and listen; they know what they’re talking about. But as true as all their information is, God’s Word can change all that. I prayed for your boy in the name of Jesus, and he’s not going to die. But if you go in there and agree with what they’re saying and start speaking that, he will die. You’ll negate what’s been started by my praying for him. But if every time you get scared or hear a bad report, you thank the Lord for His healing, He will do His part. Have you got it?”
“Yes,” Beth said, nodding her head earnestly. “I got it.”
“Okay, then. I want you to repeat back to me what I just said you need to do.”
Beth dutifully repeated back his instructions.
“Okay,” said Dave with approval. “God bless you.”
With that, Beth proceeded to the trauma unit.
Beth hurried into reception with our three youngest in tow. “Excuse me, my name is Beth Malarkey. My son William Alexander was just admitted. Can I see my son?”
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.”
“If he is going to die, I want to say good-bye to him while he’s alive. You have to let me see my son!”
Despite Beth’s pleading, the answer remained a firm no. Sadness and fear turned to frustration and anger. “This is unbelievable! How can they not let me see my son?”
I arrived about ninety minutes later. Beth still had no information about Alex’s injuries and had not heard anything concrete about his medical condition. Over the next few hours, we would be told repeatedly that the situation was serious and that the doctors were working on our son. We would not be able to see Alex or get any information about him until he was moved to the ICU.
+ + +
Just before I began to speak to Beth, I was suddenly filled with boldness. I told her that the medical staff were going to tell her that Alex would die. However, I had prayed for Alex in the name of Jesus and was confident he would live. Her job was to continue in faith and to thank the Lord continually for healing Alex. I cautioned her that if she gave in to fear and began to say he was going to die, he would. I spent several minutes reminding her that God honors His Word and that Alex was being healed as we spoke. As I walked away, that boldness left and I thought to myself, What did I do? I’m in trouble now. However, I didn’t speak anything contrary to Alex’s being healed; I just continued to thank the Lord.
Dave Knopp, paramedic
+ + +
No Condemnation
When I walked into the hospital, a group of forty people had already gathered to pray and to support us. Some were family members; others were friends from our former and current church families; still others we didn’t even know. Everyone was eager to see that I was okay, at least physically. But when I entered the ICU waiting room, there was only one face I could see in the crowd.
When Beth’s eyes met mine, I was flooded again with memories of the hundreds of times she had told me to drive more carefully, to slow down, to pay attention to the road rather than the CD player or the radio. And what about the many times I’d played in the backyard or the family room with Alex and Aaron, laughing and getting crazier by the minute, while Beth stood in the background and asked me if we were being careful? “Just relax,” I would always tell her. “Everything’s under control. Don’t be so overprotective.” I was certain these were her thoughts as well.
As I looked into her face, feelings of relief, comfort, grief, and deepest sadness all jumbled together. Renewed waves of shame washed over my tortured heart. She embraced me warmly and lovingly, but deep down I felt I didn’t deserve it.
“Beth! Is Alex alive?”
“I think so. I think he’s holding on, but I haven’t seen him, and they’ve told me next to nothing.”
In that instant the pain squeezed my heart so relentlessly that I collapsed into Beth’s arms.
“Oh, Beth,” I sobbed as I clung to her for mercy, “please forgive me. Please forgive me! I’m so sorry. I’ve torn our family apart.”
Sobs convulsed my body as grief washed over me in a tide that threatened never to ebb. For a moment, I dared to look into Beth’s eyes, bracing myself to take in the condemnation I expected to find. But no. When I looked into her dark eyes, I found only mercy. Beth held me close, covering me with kindness, understanding, and love. No anger, no bitterness, only love.
“Kevin, this could have happened to anyone. It was an accident. Of course you blame yourself. That’s just human nature. But when things calm down, you’ll realize it’s not true. Honey, don’t condemn yourself. God won’t, and neither will anyone else.”
I wasn’t sure she was right about any of this, but I felt certain she was being sincere. If Beth was nursing any bitterness or blame toward me for what had happened, I would have been able to sense it in her voice and body language. Her acceptance was a lifeline I desperately needed in that moment.
“So put all that out of your mind,” she said. “All I want to know is whether you’re all right. Are you sure you don’t have any injuries?”
“I’m fine. In fact, I’m a lot better after seeing you. Thanks.”
Separate paths had brought Alex, Beth, and me together at the hospital. Yet all we knew was that Alex was barely alive and could slip away at any moment . . .
From Alex
I Watch from the Ceiling
For he will conceal me there when troubles come; he will hide me in his sanctuary. He will place me out of reach on a high rock.
Psalm 27:5
When we got to the hospital, I was watching everything that happened from the corner of the emergency room, near the ceiling. Jesus was standing there beside me.
I was not afraid. I felt safe.
The doctors were very busy, working on my body, which by this time was kind of blue. The doctors talked a lot about me, and they didn’t have much good to say. They all thought I wouldn’t make it. One doctor did say, “He might come back.” Mostly though the medical workers were sad and talked a lot about me not surviving.
While everyone was talking about my not living, Jesus said to me that I would survive the accident. He also told me I would breathe on my own after some time had passed.
Then I looked down, and I watched as they attached a steel bolt to my head and said that it was going to hurt. (I heard later that this thing was for measuring the pressure in my brain.) Then they started putting something down my throat, and Jesus moved me into Heaven.
Jesus didn’t want me to watch what they did because He didn’t want me to remember it later and be scared.
I saw one hundred and fifty pure, white angels with fantastic wings who were all calling my name. If you didn’t know they were friendly, they would be really scary. After a while, they all said, “Alex, go back.” I did go, but Jesus went with me and held me during my time in the emergency room.