Death

Someone on the political forum I help to moderate, asked me to share some of personal experiences with death and dieing. If you've read some things I wrote, you already know that I was wounded in Vietnam and had an out of body experience.

I really think I died that evening, but for some reason, God was not ready to take me and I was sent back. I feel I was sent back that night, to fulfill a mission, or missions, of some kind. There are so many things I have done in my life that seem to bear that out. Like the big one I am going through now, my wife's brain cancer. Another was having my son Brian. I wonder so much about the things he will do, and the lives he will touch. All that because I didn't "die" in Vietnam.

Well, now to my story.

One of my cousins (which I hadn't had contact with for over 20 years) looked me up in the phone book one night and gave me a call sometime in 1987. She told me my Aunt Annie (my father's sister) was dieing of lung cancer and thought I would like to know. To make a long story short, I visited them a few time a week until my aunt died, which wound up to be just a couple of weeks later.

During my visits, I heard numerous stories about our younger years together. I was too young to remember much so it was nice to hear them. One funny one was about my older cousin, the hot one, playing doctor with me a few times. Maybe that's where I get it from? I sure wish I remembered that. Sorry to get side tracked.

One story my aunt told us, was the story about the night my Uncle Frank died. Frank was my father's brother. Frank was in a VA hospital in Brooklyn dieing of lung cancer. The night Frank died, my aunt woke up suddenly and saw him standing at the foot of her bed in an arch of white light. He told her he had died and that everything was okay and not to worry about him anymore. She told us that he looked the best he ever looked and was dressed in his best suit.

Next thing she knew, my grandmother appeared at his side and tried to pull Frank back into the light, but he resisted. Grandma hated Annie. Then my grandfather appeared and told my grandmother to shut up and leave Frank alone. He yelled at Grandma a lot while I was growing up. Typical old fashioned Pole. It worked, and Frank and Annie talked a little more and then Frank, Grandma and Grandpa all disappeared back into the light. The light disappeared right after they left.

A few minutes later, my four cousins, all girls, came running down the hall crying for my aunt and calling, "Daddy's dead, Daddys dead." My aunt gave them comfort the best she could. A short time later the telephone rang, it was 2:00 am. It was the VA hospital calling to give my aunt the news that Frank had died about 20 minute ago.

My aunt died a couple of weeks after I started my visits. She was so happy we had renewed our relationship, she told us toward the end, that she could now die in peace knowing the family was back together again. She died a few days later.

Her funeral was the strangest one I had ever been to. No one was depressed and the kids were running around quietly playing. Everyone was glad that she no longer was suffering and could be at peace once and for all. I think I will feel that way when my wife passes.

This whole experience made things so much more clear for me. I had the out of body experience in Vietnam and for years really didn't understand what had happened. This helped make things so much more clear for me.

I guess all I can say is, that there is a place we go after we die. I was almost sent there in 1968. A place where we are joined again with the ones we are closest too. A place that heals our wounds and makes us better again. A place we will all be one day and a place not be afraid of.