In Death, We Find Life

There was no mistaking the excruciating pain in my heart the day my father died. I was sure his last breath was my own as well, for I just knew I could not survive in this world without his daily presence. Twenty plus years later, I still miss him dearly everyday, but I no longer grieve with a mournful heart because I now know and understand that he is still very much alive and well, and able to comfort and visit me from the Other Side anytime.

It took me years to understand the depth of the lessons I learned from my father during our time together. While I was growing up, he would always tell me that above all else, "always be true to yourself". He also taught me the importance of living a decent moral life, and to never judge others ~ for we don't know the circumstances of their life. Then, once his "tour of duty" was up on earth, he was called Home and I was sure his death would teach me nothing more than life was a cruel joke and God was unfair. Little did I know at the time, his death was going to teach me far more about life ~ both mortal and eternal ~ then I could ever have imagined.

Sadly, my father's death was not a sudden one, but a long and painful experience as his body slowly withered away day by day, until he finally succumbed to the unyielding grasp of cancer that literally ate him alive. Near the end of his long, but stoic battle, I spent many nights by his hospital bedside where we would talk for hours throughout the night about anything and everything. We were completely open, free and honest with one another because, after all, this was no time to lie or deny. We made more confessions to each other than we ever thought we would admit too.

One night in particular, considering what he was facing, I had to ask him if he was afraid to die? I did not expect the response he gave me. His immediate answer was an instant "no". Which really did surprised me because I knew I was afraid of death ~ his and mine. In fact, I was terrified. When I asked him why he wasn't afraid, he told me he had no fear because he knew, with out doubt, where he was going and what to expect.

It was during this conversation with my father revealed to me a life altering experience he had in his twenties, when he actually did die for a short period of time as a result of a horrific construction accident. He described to me as he recalled the incident how easily and instantly his spirit exited his body once he reached the hospital room. It was so instantaneous that he didn't even realized it had happened at first. He told me he only became aware that he was no longer in his mortal body when he looked around, but by no means did he consider himself as "dead". He certainly did not feel dead. In fact, he felt exactly like himself ~ his thoughts, his personality, even the sensation of a physical body and very, very, much alive. To be precise, he felt more alive then he had ever felt before. The only real difference he noticed was the fact he felt no pain, no anger, and no negative emotions whatsoever. He felt full of life, completely healthy, and extremely happy ~ euphoric, in a sense.

As he "floated" in the hospital room, hovering in the corner looking down on his battered and bleeding injured body laying on the hospital gurney below, he was surprised he was not the least bit upset or bothered by the sight of witnessing his lifeless body laying there. Instead, he explained he felt rather comfortable in his spiritual body, like it was normal for him to be in this spiritual state. He told me he was aware of a portal, a tunnel of light so to speak, directly behind him open and waiting to provide his safe passage Home to the Other Side.

Instead of immediately turning to the light, he stayed in the corner of the room with the unspoken understanding that he was being given a choice to make. He could turn around, take the tunnel, and go Home to the Other Side, or he could return to his body and continue with his mortal life despite the difficulties he would face due to his extreme, extensive injuries. He chose to return and instantaneously again, he was back in life with us. Back in his body, back in pain.

Now, just over twenty years later, he was back in a hospital bed again, fighting for his life ~ but facing death. For over two weeks, according to the daily doctor visits, everyday would be his last and we should be prepared. But in the end, my father was the one who decided exactly when he was going to cross over. I will never forget that early June morning. For the first time in weeks, dad finally gotten an unusually peaceful nights rest. He had slept from 2 a.m. to 7 without interruption or pain. I was actually becoming a little concerned as I sat and watched him, waiting for a movement or sign that he was still with us beyond his labored breathing.