October 13th is the day I remember coming to myself.
On that day, in the Fall of 2024, I remember sitting on a hospital bed, looking outside at what seemed like nothing but forest. There was no familiar street or hills to help me figure out where I was.
I wondered several things. How long had I been there? And why were all these doctors asking me questions?
“Do you know what happened?” one doctor asked.
“No.”
I remember responding in a voice that sounded like my nine-year-old self. I don’t know where that voice came from, but it stayed with me for days. So much of that time still feels strange to look back on.
As people began telling me, I sat in disbelief. Nearly two weeks in ICU. Two brain procedures. Emergency blood clot surgery. I was stoic, trying to take in a story about myself that I couldn’t remember living.
Today, I honor how far I’ve come since my illness. I still live with some of the effects of that illness, slight mobility challenges, changes in spatial awareness, and cognitive things I continue to navigate. And I am still grateful. Grateful that we finally reached a hospital where people went the extra mile to figure out what was wrong. Grateful for the care I received. Grateful to be here, able to tell this part of my story.
In Resting While You Wait, reflection makes room for looking back with grace. Tonight, I’m giving myself that room. I can acknowledge what happened, what remains difficult, and how far I’ve come.
It could have been worse. I know that. And as I look back, Romans 8:28 remains my anchor: it all worked together for good.
I’ve spent part of the day listening to his music, watching tributes and remembering. And somewhere between You Are My Lady, Jam Tonight, Have You Ever Loved Somebody and Tasty Love, I realized that I wasn’t just remembering Freddie Jackson. I was remembering a particular time in my own life.
I was remembering 17-year-old me.
Tasty Love was released in the fall of 1986, during my senior year of high school. And let me just say this now: at 17 years old, I had absolutely no idea what that man was singing about. 😂 It didn’t matter though
There was something about Freddie Jackson’s voice. The tone. The smoothness. The music. I knew that voice as soon as I heard it.
Now, if you had asked me whether I was an alto or a soprano, I probably couldn’t have told you.
But I knew I could sing Freddie Jackson.
And I still think I did a pretty good job. 😂
I can picture myself coming home from school. I probably ate something, although I don’t really remember that part. What I do remember is doing homework with music around me. I had my records playing. I had music videos going because Video Soul with Donnie Simpson was important. Music was simply part of the atmosphere.
But if the Tasty Love video came on? We had to stop. Because not only was Freddie singing one of my favorite songs, Beverly Johnson was in that video and she was stunning.
Around that same period, I had written a research paper on Black supermodels, so seeing her in that video connected two things I already loved: music and fashion. Billboard even noted at the time that Beverly Johnson starred with Freddie in the video.
There was an elegance to her that I remember even now. Looking back at images from that period reminds me of something else I loved about the late ‘80s. The women were beautiful, fashionable and glamorous, and Beverly didn’t have to compete with the music to command your attention.
So when Tasty Love came on, I was watching.
I needed to hear Freddie.
I needed to see Beverly.
And apparently whatever homework I was doing could wait. 😂
That’s what music can do. A song doesn’t simply remind you of another song. Sometimes it opens an entire room in your memory.
Suddenly, I can see the records. I can see the television. I can remember being a senior in high school, getting ready to step into whatever came next. I can remember loving music and fashion without knowing that almost 40 years later, a song would bring those pieces of me right back to the surface.
Freddie Jackson’s music became part of the soundtrack of that time. His first album, Rock Me Tonight, arrived in 1985, and the music kept coming. Tasty Love, Have You Ever Loved Somebody and Jam Tonight would all become No. 1 R&B songs from his follow-up album.
Today, those aren’t simply song titles to me. They’re memories.
Freddie Jackson died October 5, just days after celebrating his birthday. That’s part of what makes today feel both sad and strangely beautiful.
I’m sad that another voice connected to my youth is gone. But I’m grateful that the music remains. I’m grateful that hearing a few notes can still take me back to a girl sitting at home after school with records playing, music videos on and a whole life ahead of her.
And I’m especially grateful that almost 40 years later, I can hear Tasty Love and remember that
I loved music.
I loved fashion.
I loved a beautiful visual.
I was getting ready to graduate from high school and step into adulthood.
And I still didn’t know whether I was an alto or a soprano.
A new month, a new season, and another invitation to notice the beauty in what is changing.
As the leaves begin to turn and the days feel a little different, I’m welcoming October with gratitude for what has been, grace for where I am, and expectation for what is still unfolding.
I don’t have to know everything this month will bring to believe there is goodness waiting for me in it. Here’s to embracing the shift, making room for what’s next, and trusting the beauty of the season. 🧡🍁
Don’t drift because life has gotten better.
Don’t confuse visibility with evidence.
Don’t be ashamed of the Jesus you have chosen to follow.
And don’t exhaust yourself running without direction.
