In 1997 my three children and I (Jermaine then was 10 years old, Anthony 8 and Latisha 3) moved to a new flat, provided by Bristol City Council. My children made friends with all the other children in the neighborhood and we all enjoyed living there.
One Sunday afternoon I allowed Jermaine and Anthony to play at the front of the flats as their friends came to call for them and I felt mean not allowing them to go. They weren’t really allowed at the front, usually playing at the back in an enclosed play area. A few minutes later I was busy doing the housework and cooking the Sunday dinner.
I went upstairs to clean the front bedroom windows when I heard a loud screech and bang. As I looked out of the window to my amazement it looked like a little dog flying from one side of the road to the other. But then my heart felt nervous and I felt weak.
Within seconds there was a loud bang at the door and shouting. It was my son Jermaine.
“Mum, Mum, quick! Its Anthony. He has been knocked over by a car and the car is gone. Mum please come!”
I flew down the stairs and ran out of the front door; I remember seeing a crowd of people and loads of screaming. As I approached the crowd, Anthony was on the road, eyes rolled back and no movement. I screamed and went all dizzy. Everyone was a blur to me as I fell back into my neighbor’s arms and she was trying to hold me up.
I heard one of the neighbors say, “Oh, my God!!! He’s dead.”
I remember seeing a man pushing the crowd away and kneeling down by Anthony, and giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation and making a phone call. Within minutes the ambulance arrived. They were attending to Anthony; I noticed one of the ambulance men shaking his head as if to say, “He’s gone.”There was no movement from Anthony; he wasn’t breathing. The ambulance men tried everything that they could possibly try.
At that moment I saw a lady who lived across the road from me kneel down next to Anthony and the ambulance men tried to ward her off. She said, “Please … I need to do this.” She put her hand on Anthony’s head and said aloud, “God please do not take this child.” Within a couple of seconds Anthony’s eyes started to flicker. There were at least 12 people who witnessed this and also the ambulance crew.
Anthony started to cough. He was alive!!!! I looked up to say thank you to the lady and she was gone; she disappeared. I allowed the ambulance men to carry on with their duty and as Anthony and I were traveling to Southmead Hospital, Bristol I was speaking to him. I couldn’t stop speaking to him. He had amnesia and didn’t know who I was for at least 30 minutes. After an agonizing wait for results from the nurses and doctors he was pronounced “Okay” and discharged.
“How?” I asked, the doctor replied “He’s fine; he will be OK”
“But — oh never mind,” I replied.
The doctor did say to me that with the impact of the car on Anthony’s head, only God knows how he survived! It was a hit and run; the driver never stopped. The man who warded off the crowd was a doctor.
And the lady across the road … I went to thank her the next day and she said, “No love. Don’t thank me; thank God.”
I said to her, “How did you do that?”
She replied, “Ask God.”
So I did, and from that day I have never stopped thanking God for sending his angels to save my son.