What's Done in the Dark, Comes Forth to the Light

What's Done in the Dark

Sunday Morning

I arrived at the church that Tylor usually goes to. I sat in my car for quite some time, waiting for him to show up. I have sweet baby Johnathan in the backseat of the car, and I have spent at least two hours getting ready for church today. I decided to wear a pretty black dress today just to look up to the part. I saw many beautiful families entering the church, but I have not seen Tylor yet. I titled the rear-view mirror in a downward position to see the baby sleeping in the backseat. I had already fed the baby before church, and I made sure that I woke up early to take care of his needs so  that I wouldn't be late. After about 15 minutes, I still haven't seen Tylor at all. I decided that I still wanted to attend the service. I walked into the church, and I took a look around; he wasn't in sight. I thought that he might be a little late, so I sat down next to a black family of 5. The entire church waited patiently for the pastor to walk out. As we sang and prayed, I began to feel something in my heart. Apart from me, I wanted to reject such a feeling and denounce it as a natural reaction. However, I decided to embrace the feeling this one time. I lifted my right arm in praise with the baby in my left, and I sang along, paying close attention to the choir. Chills ran from my back down to my feet. It felt as if my body temperature declined, and my mouth was sealed shut. I looked up with my eyes closed, and I embraced what they would call "The Holy Spirit." Twenty minutes later, worship had come to a close temporarily, just in time for the message. I was so intrigued with the music that I was invested in hearing what the pastor had to say. It was a black man with a nice trimmed beard wearing an all-white clergy robe. Tylor's church has always been predominantly black. Looking out into the crowd, I can only see one white family here excluding me, but that's beside the point. I still haven't seen Tylor, and I have been here for at least 25 or 30 minutes, and not to mention another 20 minutes waiting for him outside. Just as the pastor was beginning to speak, I could hear my phone buzzing from my purse. I got up to head to the bathroom with the baby to see who was calling me, and it was an unknown number. I usually don't call back unknown numbers, but I did to see who it was this time. 

"Hello, who is this that called me?" I asked. 

"This is Tylor's mother, Mrs. Davidson. Is this Ashera?" asked Mrs. Davidson. 

"Yes, hello there," I said. 

Tylor's mother began to break down over the phone. She continued to cry over the phone to the point where she could barely hold conservation. 

"What is wrong, Mrs. Davidson?" I asked her. 

"Where is my grandbaby?" asked Mrs. Davidson as she wept. 

"We are at the church that Tylor told me to meet him at. We are in the ladies' room, and I am probably going to feed him while I am in here; why?" I asked. 

"Ashera..." said Mrs. Davidson. 

Suspense began to kick in, and my heart began to race. 

"Yes, I am here," I said. 

"Tylor is in the hospital. He swallowed a lot of medicine, and the-the doctors are rushing to flush him out," said Mrs. Davidson as she cried louder. 

"No, no, no, no, no, you can't be serious. Is Tylor at that hospital in town?" I asked. 

"Yes, he is here. Look, I cannot stay on the phone with you," said Mrs. Davidson. 

"Wait, I am on the way. I got to feed Johnathan really quick," I said nervously. 

We hung up the phone. I fed the baby formula that I had prepared instead of breast milk this time in the bathroom stall, and I rushed out of the church with him and my purse. After placing the baby in his car seat, I sped down the road to run him to my parents' house to drop off the baby. I already had baby formula in the car and many diapers; I carry them with me all the time. When I got there, I marched onto the front porch of my parents' house, and I knocked on the door hard. My father opened the door, and I didn't have time for conversation. 

"Ashera, hey," said my father. 

"Tylor's in the hospital; I don't have time. Here's your grandson, his car seat, and his necessities. Here, grab him," I said.

"Ashera, what is going on?" asked my father. 

My father grabbed the baby, and I just ran off without answering his question. I was determined to get to that hospital to see my husband. I raced all throughout town to get to the hospital. Considering that he swallowed straight pills is very concerning for me, and I am apprehensive about his health. Hopefully, the doctors can flush him, but what kind of effect would such a thing have on his health afterward? It's a question that I was thinking to myself while I was on the way to the hospital. I had already sent a text to Mrs. Davidson where Tylor was at the hospital, so I know where to go. Room 8c is what she told me. When I got to the hospital, I rushed to the third floor to find Tylor. I saw his mother sobbing in the waiting room. I ran over to her to comfort her. His father was standing in the corner with his head down, looking very upset. 

"What's going on so far?" I asked. 

"His organs are failing," Mrs. Davidson said as she cried. 

"What?!" I roared. 

I got up to look into the window of the room where they were promoting a surgery. It was horrible; I saw tubes running inside his body. His chest was slightly open because I guess he was having heart problems as a result. Mr. Davidson walked over to me to hold me. 

"I'm a need you to be strong, okay?" asked Tylor's father. 

"Strong for what?" I asked. 

"Just be strong and take good care of our grandbaby," said Tylor's father. 

In the corner of my eye, I saw Tylor's siblings crying as well. 

"No, no, you can't be serious," I said. 

My eyes began to water, and my heart began to race. 2 hours went by, and I was already asleep after all that crying to relieve the pain in my head. Tylor's mother woke me up because the doctor had come out of the room. By the look of his face, I knew something wasn't right. I looked to my right, and I saw Tylor lying there with a sheet over his head. Tylor's heart monitor was flatlined. Tylor was gone. It felt as if my heart burst in my chest. I couldn't get a single word out, and I cried so loudly in the waiting room. The doctor already knew that we knew because we could see, so he didn't even say anything for a couple of minutes. He just watched us all cry with a very depressed look on his face. The pain hurt so bad that it was hard for me to breathe. I lost my husband, my best friend, and my protector. My baby boy lost his father. 

"I am so sorry; we did what we could," said the doctor. 

We all cried some more. I lost everything. Do you know what that feels like? Phone calls to the funeral home were soon to be made. Tylor's siblings are in so much emotional pain. I am in so much emotional pain. Mr. Davidson was struggling to cope. Mrs. Davidson was fighting, too; we couldn't even stand to watch what was going on in the room. I excused myself to the women's restroom, where I sobbed some more. I sat in the bathroom stall and decided to pray. Then, I began to remember some scriptures. You don't know what I am doing, but later you will understand. I could hear a voice in my head trying to calm me. It told me that God will bring me peace if I continue to believe. It said to me that God will bring me mercy if I surrender for good. That very day, I decided to give everything I have to Christ. I decided to put everything on the altar. I asked God for peace, guidance, and understanding. I realized that I could no longer do this on my own, but instead, I need divine guidance to help me all the way. I needed to see what God has been trying to do for me. I was eager to see what He was up to, so I can see what's done in the dark.