The whole issue of facing our mortality is hitting home now. When we were young, we knew intellectually that we could die young of disease or accident, but we knew that statistically our chances of doing so were fairly small. And dying at 75, 80, or beyond just didn’t make an impact in our daily attitude; or least it didn’t penetrate mine. Until the love of my life died very suddenly, violently, and tragically when I was 21. Talk about being slapped in the face with reality.
Now I, and many of my friends and family members, are in our 50s and beyond, and we are realizing that time is ticking away in a more significant way. It’s hard to totally conceive of dying, whether or not you believe in life after death or whether you believe that once you die, that is it. Personally, when I think of the possibility of dying being the end, I wonder “then what is the POINT?!!” Frankly, it hurts me more to think of my children being gone forever than it does to consider my own cessation of being/consciousness.
In my career as an RN, I’ve had patients who arrested and were revived tell me of their “after life” experiences. These stories have some consistent similarities, and they comfort me.
I had a patient who arrested at a local restaurant in Dallas, right across the street from a major medical center. He said that everyone apparently thought someone else had called 911, but no one had. Two nurses from that local hospital were eating lunch there that day, and they initiated CPR. He was down for over 15 minutes before EMS arrived. He told me that he had a full blown “near death experience.” He went through a tunnel, into an amazing blazing light, and met a being who filled him with love. “Imagine the strongest feelings of love, peace, euphoria, etc., you’ve ever experienced, and multiply it times one million. That’s what it felt like to meet the being.” WOW.
He told me he had been raised Southern Baptist, “but they got a lot of it wrong.” I said, “What did they get wrong?” He replied, “Well, first of all, everyone goes to Heaven.” I blurted out “What?! Even murderers and child molesters?!” He said, “Yes, even them.” He told me that even though he has no fear of death, even of disability and pain, he still wants to live as long as possible and maximize his human potential. He told me that when he was with “the being,” he learned that the point of life is to “love and learn.” Period. It’s not to be Mother Theresa, although that’s fine, but the purpose of life is to love and learn.
Food for thought, no?