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John,
a friend of the family, was terminally ill with inoperable cancer and
had elected to receive no further treatment other than painkillers. Two
months before his death, he took to a hospital bed in his living room
and rarely left it. Between his three daughters, a hospice nurse, and
my mother, he was never alone. John often told us that he was surrounded
by angels and that he could see plainly see them. One, he said, looked
like a "beach bum" and wore shorts, sandals, and a flowered shirt. This
angel reportedly sat on an invisible lawn chair throughout John's decline,
and we just smiled when he spoke of it.
 Several weeks passed, and John's
body deteriorated despite his good spirits. Eventually, he became too
weak to be conscious for more than an hour at a time. One day, Mom and
I dropped by to say hello, and we could hear that his breathing had changed.
Something told us that he would not last the night, so we stayed to lend
morale support to his daughters.
Around 4 a.m., John's daughters
and my mother went to bed, leaving me and Audrey, his nurse, to watch
over him. Audrey sat in a recliner behind the head of John's bed and read.
I sat beside the head of his bed and held his hand, praying. At one point,
my eyes caught a movement reflecting off his bed rail. It was the reflection
of a person in white walking down the length of the bed toward his feet.
Assuming it to be Audrey coming around to take his vitals signs, I stood
up and moved out of her way. But it wasn't Audrey. She still sat in the
recliner engrossed in her novel. When she noticed my movement and glanced
up, I told her about the figure I had seen in the bed rail. Audrey agreed
that it had probably been one of John's angels now that the end was eminent.
About 2 hours later, John's
breathing became
very hollow sounding, and Audrey confirmed that he would die very soon.
We woke the others up and stood around his bed. For the next 45 minutes,
we all felt the tiny hairs on our face stand on end over and over again.
Although he seemed peaceful, he seemed to be emitting an incredible energy
that we could all feel. Finally, he took his last breath and was pronounced
dead. It was a relief for him and for all of us that he was at rest.
I told the others about the
figure who had been at John's bedside earlier that morning, and it brought
incredible peace to them. We all agreed that the energy we'd felt before
his death was heaven sent. I now believe what I always suspected to be
the truth—we don't come into this world alone and we don't leave
it alone either.
B. Langman
On November 6, 2000, we found out that my
mom had cancer which was spreading rapidly through her body. The doctors
said she would live only 1 to 2 months longer—maybe until Christmas—and
they made arrangements for us keep her at home where she would be comfortable.
Along with hospice care, my sisters and I made arrangements to stay home
with her. We never mentioned to her that she was dying.
As Christmas Day came near,
my mom got worse. She began speaking nonsense and became less responsive.
The day before she was to pass away, she asked to talk to me alone. When
my brother and sister left the room, she turned to me—all her senses
seemed clear and normal—and said, "I want to die. I can't take it
anymore. Is it okay? Please help me!"
As strong as I could be, I said,
"I can't help you, Mom, but it is okay if you want to go. Just close
your eyes and go to sleep, and God will come and take you." I told
her that she shouldn't worry about leaving us, that as the oldest, I would
take care of my dad and the other family members.
Later, with my dad and all of
us present, she said she was ready to go. Slowly she was dying, and with
a big smile she said, "I'm dying...what a beautiful death. I am passing
through beautiful clouds. Oh, look at the Virgin Mary...she is so beautiful..."
Mom even waived good-bye to us. Then suddenly her mind came back, and
she said, "That's not fair. I was in a beautiful place, and now I am back
to suffer some more." Then she said, "It's okay. At 4 a.m. a lady in white
will come to pick me up."
Her breathing got worse, and
she began talking to people on the other side, mentioning family members
who had passed away. As time went on, her health deteriorated but her
conversations with other people became very intense. At one point we believe
she was talking to God, answering to him over and over, "Yes, it's true.
Yes, it's true." She began going
in and out of sleep, and at 1 a.m. she said, "I just entered." Then about
3 a.m. she said, "Now I am in the front." We assumed she had entered the
tunnel and had made her way to the front now. Soon everyone began to fall
asleep and the house got very quiet. My mom's breathing grew more calm.
She seemed a little more at peace. At about 4:25, she began to cough,
I got up and saw she was foaming at the mouth. I cleaned her and then
slowly she turned her head and closed her eyes. We all gathered around
her bed. Her heart was beating slowly. At 4:30 a.m. the lady in white
must have come. Mom was gone. But she left us the gift of experiencing
what she went through, and with a stronger belief in the afterlife and
the "other side." Most importantly, our belief in God was more sure.
We understand that Mom is in
a better place. We do miss her though!
Lourdes Casas
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