The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven: A Remarkable Account of Miracles, Angels, and Life Beyond This World (2 page)
Authors: Kevin Malarkey; Alex Malarkey
An immense wave of incredulity, horror, and crushing grief loomed above me, threatening to swallow me. On the other side of the car, the paramedics worked furiously, trying to remove Alex and get him onto a stretcher, all the while attempting to establish an airway in order to get oxygen into his lungs.
Moments later, a senior medical officer consulting with the policeman who was first on the scene said, “We’ll need to contact the coroner’s office and cancel MedFlight.”
“Yes, sir, but the chopper’s already landing.”
Panic stabbed my chest and breath came in short gasps as my mind raced uncontrollably through the mayhem:
I’m the cause of all this. Have I killed my son? What about the people in the other car? Where did that car come from? Am I going to jail? Is Alex really dead?
As bystanders gathered around the organized confusion of the rescue effort, shame poured over me—the father who had caused destruction in so many lives. Were all these people secretly condemning me? They were too late. Condemnation had already invaded the very recesses of my heart.
Oh God, what have I done?
Fear coursed through my body like an electrical surge. Utterly bewildered as to what to do, I turned when a hand on my right shoulder interrupted my thoughts.
I heard a mighty crash at the intersection only a few dozen yards from my front door. I had been a fireman and thought I might be able to help, so I sprinted toward the accident scene. When I arrived, Kevin, whom I didn’t know at the time, was in a daze. People were urging him to sit down, as he was obviously disoriented. I first went up to the other car, but those people all seemed to be okay. I then went over to Kevin’s car and could see that a little boy was in the backseat. I climbed in the back as best I could, but I had no idea if the little boy was dead or alive. I knew enough not to touch his head but placed my hand over his chest. There was no perceptible breathing. I’m a man of faith, so I started praying for this little guy. I also talked to him as if he could hear me, although there was no response. I said, “Hey, little guy, don’t worry.”
And I kept praying.
“You’re going to be all right.”
And I kept praying.
“Don’t be afraid. You just hang in there.”
And I kept praying.
“You’re going to make it, buddy. Help is on the way.”
I didn’t have any indication that Alex was alive, but I kept praying for him and his dad.
Dan Tullis
“Sir, we found this cell phone in the car. Would you like to call your wife?”
Beth! Oh, no!
She was on the phone with me when the accident occurred. She was still at home with two-day-old baby Ryan and Aaron and Gracie. What was she thinking? What did she hear? While dialing the number, I willed down the rising tightness in my throat.
“Beth.”
“Hello, Kevin?”
But the moment her voice fell on my ear, grief and shame burst out in gasping sobs.
“Oh, Beth, oh, Beth, we’ve been in a terrible accident!” Tears streamed down my face.
“Is he dead?” she asked, her voice low and calm.
On the drive down, I remember telling God, “Alex is Yours. If You decide to take him home, that’s okay, but You have to give me the strength to do this.”
Beth Malarkey, Alex’s mom
+ + +
“I don’t know. I don’t know. They’re loading him in a chopper and taking him to Children’s. I’m so sorry, Beth.”
“I’ve got the kids. Let’s just stay focused on what we need to do right now. I’ll meet you at Children’s.”
In the precise mayhem of the rescue effort, I heard someone say, “We’ve got a heartbeat—super weak, but it’s there.” By then Beth had hung up the phone and was gathering the children to make the hour-and-a-half-long trek to Columbus Children’s Hospital.
I ran to the chopper, determined that I was coming on that trip, too, but a strong arm reached out, stopping me.
“Are you the father?” asked a uniformed medic.
“Yes, yes, I am,” I said, trying to surge ahead and board the chopper.
“You’re welcome to ride with us.” But then he hesitated for a moment and looked back over the accident scene.
“Pardon me, but were you in the accident too?”
Time is always of the essence, but more so in Alex’s case. When we first assessed Alex at the accident scene, his pupils were fixed (not responding to light), he was not breathing on his own, and it was difficult to feel his pulse. My partner and I knew he was severely injured and thought he would probably die from his injuries. Even so we did our best. On the way to the accident, I had felt in my heart that I needed to pray before we arrived, so I had prayed quietly as we flew to the scene. Now I better understood why.
Once we had Alex on a cot, we carried him back to the helicopter. Kevin asked if he could pray with his son before we left. We told him he could, but he needed to be quick because we really needed to go. Kevin broke down, and we became concerned that his prayer would take too long. I asked him if he was a Christian, and he said he was. I told him the nurse and I were too. I asked him if he believed God wanted to heal his son, and he said he did. I told him that we believed that too. After that, I asked him if he would allow me to pray for his son in the helicopter. He said yes, so we thanked him and left.
Once we got into the helicopter, I quickly laid my hand on Alex’s head and prayed that he would be healed in the name of Jesus. Then I simply thanked the Lord for healing Alex and believed that God was doing what He said He would do in His Word.
I often pray for patients in-flight—not every time, but often.
Dave Knopp, paramedic
“Yes, I was driving but came out fine.”
“I’m so sorry, sir, but you can’t come with us then. You need to be examined at our local hospital.”
Panic gripped me again. Not go with Alex? Impossible! I was reduced to begging but didn’t care. “You’ve got to let me go with my son. Really, I’m okay. I’ve got to. Please let me go with Alex . . . please?”
“Sir, I understand how you may be feeling, but right now the best thing you can do for your son is go to the hospital, get checked out, and make sure you’re okay, and let us do what we need to do. Alex is your priority. He’s ours, too.”
“But I’m okay!” I protested. “Look, I’m walking around fine. You’ve got to let me go with him.”
Firmly but respectfully, the paramedic said, “I’m sorry, sir. I have to shut the doors and go now.”
“Oh God, oh God!” I cried out, frantically praying, “Please save my little boy, please . . .” But that’s all I got out as sobs of grief enveloped me.
The first medic looked at his partner and said with tightened jaw, “We have to go now.”
I Went to Heaven
Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children.
Mark 10:14Daddy did not see the car coming, but I did. I like to look out the back side window of Daddy’s car, and so that is what I was doing when we started to turn. I was just getting ready to tell him there was a car when we got hit.For just one second before all of the “action” began, there was a moment of calmness. I remember thinking someone was going to die. When the calm ended, I heard the sound of glass breaking, and I saw Daddy’s feet going out of the car.Now I thought I knew who was going to die. But then I saw something unbelievably cool. Five angels were carrying Daddy outside the car. Four were carrying his body, and one was supporting his neck and head. The angels were big and muscular, like wrestlers, and they had wings on their backs from their waists to their shoulders. I thought Daddy was dead, but that it was okay because the angels were going to make him okay.Then I looked to the front passenger seat, and the devil was looking into my eyes. He said, “Yeah, that’s right, your daddy is dead, and it is your fault.” I thought the accident was my fault because I had asked Daddy a question and he turned to answer my question right before the car hit us. I’m not sure whether I watched Daddy from the car or from Heaven. I went to Heaven shortly after the car hit us, but I am not sure of the exact moment I actually left my body. I do know that when I was in Heaven, everything was perfect.This is what happened in the car after the other car hit us. All of this happened in what seemed to be a few seconds. I heard the sound of shattering glass, and I tried to duck my head to protect myself. As I ducked down, I saw a piece of glass in my thumb. That is when I realized that all of this was real. I tried to bite down on Barney. I felt a pain in my mouth like, maybe, I had bitten through my tongue. I began to feel pain throughout my body. I thought that I would be the next one to die. I thought that there was some fire behind me because my back felt like it was burning. I tried to turn my head toward the back of the car, but there was no fire. I could only see a big black circle, and something smelled really nasty. I felt a bad pain in the back of my head. It felt like a knife stabbing my neck. Then I realized that my head was hanging down to one side and I could not lift it back up.I tried to call out to my daddy, but I couldn’t hear the sound of my voice. I thought that maybe my hearing wasn’t working. Then I thought the sound of the car hitting us was echoing in my head. With my lips I said, “I love you, Daddy.”I thought the roof of the car was going to collapse on me. I felt like I was in a plane that was flying on the road. It sounded like a volcano was erupting and coming my way. I saw the two air bags blow up. Daddy flew out of the car right before the air bags came out. The window on the passenger side in the front of the car broke. The backseat was torn up by flying glass. There was glass in my right hand, in my left armpit, in my hair, and in my private place. I knew my eyebrow was cut because blood was dripping down. I knew I was bleeding in my throat, my nose, and my eyes. I felt like I was bleeding in my stomach, too, from the seatbelt.The fireman cut my seatbelt off because it was jammed. They put something in my throat to make me breathe. While I was on the stretcher, they told me to be strong. They said that I was hurt badly and that I was going to the hospital. They said I was a tough boy.I went through a long, white tunnel that was very bright. I didn’t like the music in the tunnel; it was really bad music played on instruments with really long strings.But then I got to Heaven, and there was powerful music, and I loved it.When I arrived in Heaven, the same five angels who had helped Daddy out of the car were there. They comforted me. Daddy was in Heaven too. The angels stayed with me so Daddy could be alone with God. Daddy had bad injuries like mine, but God was healing him in Heaven to bring glory to Himself—that’s what God told me later. Daddy asked God if he could trade places with me, but God said no. God said He would heal me later on earth to bring more glory to His name.
After God said no to Daddy, Daddy’s spirit returned to his body next to our smashed car. I could see Daddy from Heaven, lying in the ditch next to our car.
1
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.