Angilee Wallis

I know you are trying to tell me something,” I said. “Just keep trying and I’ll catch it,” I told him. He kept struggling until “Mom and Dad” tumbled out.

“Say it again,” I pleaded excitedly through my tears.

Terry repeated: “Mom and Dad.”

“Terry, tomorrow is Father’s Day,” I cried. “When Dad gets up, we’ll tell him what you can say. It will be his Father’s Day present from you.”

When Jerry got up, I could not contain my excitement. “Jerry, Terry has a Father’s Day present for you,” I said, escorting him to Terry’s bedside. Then, very clearly, Terry spoke: “Mom and Dad.”

Jerry is not one given to emotions, but tears glistened in his eyes. “That’s the best Father’s Day present I could have,” he said.

For breakfast, I expected Terry to ask for Pepsi-his new word-when I asked him what he wanted to drink. Instead, he said: “Milk.”

The next week, when I walked into his room, he was telling the people around him that his birthday was April 7, 1964. I laughed and hugged him then asked: “Terry, what you else can you say?”

“Anything I want,” he answered, laughing.

By the end of August we brought Terry home to stay. I quit my job to care for him full-time. His daughter Amber is nineteen now. She comes every day to spend time with her dad. She loves Terry just because he is her dad.

Terry is a quadriplegic as a result of the accident. Yet, many times he has told me, “I’m so happy.” God wanted him to live, and now I know Terry also wanted to survive. My family is still the center of my life, but God is also there with us.

My son’s life is a miracle.

I keep praying and trusting that God will continue to see us all through.