Roosevelt Delinois sits daily by his wife’s hospital bedside. Holding her hand, smoothing out her hair, and telling her the same thing he’s spoken since that fateful day: “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was on April 6, 2024, that 27-year-old marathon enthusiast Onyxia Delinois went for her morning jog as usual in Miramar, Florida. Running brought her joy—peace, strength, and a sense of purpose. That tranquil morning soon became a nightmare when a hit-and-run driver hit her on the Miramar Parkway before speeding off.
There were no cameras around. No license plate. No one watching whom the vehicle was operated by. The driver of the car disappeared into the quiet, leaving Onyxia’s broken body on the ground.
She was taken to the hospital with several traumatic brain injuries. She went into a coma. When she woke up weeks later, everything had changed. She could no longer speak. She could not walk. She could not even eat by herself—now she relies on a feeding tube.
And still, by each moment thereafter, Roosevelt has never relinquished her presence.
“She’s still there,” he whispers. “She cannot speak, but I see her in her eyes. I see my wife.”
Roosevelt and Onyxia met while they were in college. She was a nursing major, he was an education major. They fell in love gradually, and suddenly. Friends recall she glowed when she talked about him. He’d root for her while she was doing marathons, always sporting a sign that said, “Run, baby, run!”
And now she can’t stand. But Roosevelt continues cheering.
“I said on our wedding day, ‘In sickness and in health.’ I meant everything I said,” he says. “This isn’t the life we had envisioned, but I’m going to walk alongside her—each step of the way, no matter if she isn’t able to walk with me.”
He balances full-time caregiving with part-time employment, in addition to struggling for answers. He has addressed community gatherings and implored officials to enhance street monitoring. Up to this point, the driver has not been identified.
It is a ache. It is a time of endless waiting. But Roosevelt holds on. Onyxia and Roosevelt’s tale has touched the hearts of many in their community of Florida—and well beyond. For others, it evokes memories of a past tragedy: John and Emily Richardson.
Last summer, Emily, a devoted jogger and school teacher, was struck while running close to her residence. Similar to Onyxia, she experienced a traumatic brain injury and remains in a hospital bed, not able to move in any way and unable to communicate verbally.
John stops by daily. He reads for her, plays her music, and informs her of his daily life as if she were able to respond.
“I don’t think she can say so herself, but I do believe she’s still there,” John said. “I’ve made an oath. I’m not leaving.”
Roosevelt and John’s stories are reminders of the depth with which love persists, even through life’s most cruel twists.
A post from X.
Spousal support has also played a critical role in recuperation from traumatic brain injuries, based on a 2018 study published in The Journal of Head Trauma Rehabilitation. The emotional care of a loved one will most likely contribute towards improved psychological outcomes for the patients.
“Regardless of whether the body doesn’t react in the same manner,” Roosevelt states, “I do think she feels everything. Love is also a medication, after all.”
Local residents have begun fundraising for Onyxia’s medical expenses. Others have used social media outlets to keep the public aware of the situation.
“We cannot let this be just another hit-and-run mystery,” one of the neighbors wrote. “She deserves justice. So do they.”
Justice for Roosevelt meant something more than an arrest. It meant accountability. Answers. And perhaps—maybe—anything that could bring a little peace.
And even if that day never arrives, his course of action remains clear.
“I’ll be here,” he replies. “For as long as she needs me.”
It isn’t the life either of them had imagined. But it is a life still surrounded by love—a quiet, intense, daily love that persists through the blackest moments.
