Have you ever taken the time to contemplate the visitation of those who have passed on when different occasions or events arise in your own life? The thought would be extremely nice, wouldn't it? Many wish at such times like a birth, wedding, graduation from school or college that Dad or Mom or Grandad could be there to witness such a sight. And, yet you sense their presence which makes you smile, cry or possibly even both.However, how many of you have actually pondered the contact from someone when a living person is ill or perhaps are dying? For those of you, like me, who have worked in the medical field, have either witnessed or heard stories of such things occurring; but for many others it is very hard to grasp.
Back in the cold, blistery month of December in 2000, my father's mother had been admitted to the hospital on Christmas Day. I left my morning of sitting with my children and my mother gathered around the Christmas tree opening gifts to rushing through a shower, dressing and heading for the hospital after the call came in about 9 am in the morning to let us know she was there. As I walked through the main doors of the emergency room, I greeted some familiar faces that had worked with my mother there for years. I was informed that they had already moved her to a private room up on the floor where my mother worked as a nurse. By the time I got upstairs and around the corner and down the hall to the nurses station, I was met again by another co-worker of my mother's. She escorted me down to my Gramma's room and told me the Nephrologist would be in momentarily to talk with me. Within the hour of that statement, I had been informed she was in the last stages of renal failure, there was no chance for recovery and I must now decide how to help her die. Physically, she was non-responsive. She was somewhere else and stayed in a sleeping state.
For years leading to this event, my Gramma's mind had slipped almost to a complete retreat to the past. She always saw me as "Dida" (one of her sisters) and then a cousin of mine before we could direct her mind more to the present to find me. The same was with my younger brother, who looks very much as my father did when he was alive. And, a cruel twist of perception began over the years of my brother posing as my father as well as her grandson; depending on which moment we were in.
So, after making arrangements to keep her comfortable now in this cold hospital room which overlooked the parking lot and part of the park that led down to the docks by the river, I called my mother and asked her to call the Red Cross to get my brother an emergency leave from his post in the Air Force in North Carolina.
About 15 hours later, my brother arrived with his new wife of four months to the hospital room where I had permanently attached myself due to a promise I had made to this woman to not let her die alone (which was her biggest fear); and once again, we began the ritual. Up till this point, I had totally shut down to any or all spirit activity elsewhere in the building. I was on a personal task now and emotions had taken over in many different ways. My inner-sight clouded beyond a thick fog. I leaned over to her, stroking her hand and said, "Gramma, Daddy is here!" For a brief moment, she opened her eyes, looked at my brother and said, "That is not your father, that is Michael. Jimmy and Al are over there" and she pointed to the opposite side of her hospital bed. A faint smile came across her face as she closed her eyes again; never to open again. She passed on 2 hours later with her final breathe. As she made this declaration though, I started crying - partly because she saw them there (my father "Jimmy" as she called him, and my Grandfather whom I'd never met, Al). I also cried because for the first time she knew who my brother was without any help. My brother and his wife just stood staring at the empty space on the other side of her bed. I just squeezed her hand more and stroked her hair.
With a part of my personal life shared, I have wondered many times how many people shrug off what people who are ill or who are dying state that they see. Why not be there? Even if it is in a location that these people had never been before when they were still living. Moreso, I have wondered how many people find comfort in what their loved one has seen.
Our world seems so preoccupied with death, a fear that seems to loom because of the "unknown" status of what happens after you draw that last breathe, that for some it is probably too much to bear to hear that type of response or testament. Then again, one would think that it would be very uplifting to know that someone is there to help them start on the next phase of their journey or give them extra strength to carry on through an illness or perhaps a scary time in their own life.
When time time comes, one might not physically see the person(s) who are there, but often they can be felt, even if only for a whisper of a moment. There is a peace that passes all understanding when this occurs. Yes, for those who continue to live, there is a mourning for the loss of the person but the body is either preparing to release or has already released the very spirit which continues to live on. And, if you are on the side of being there for the one who is dying, rest assured that someone is there to take the lead when your part of the journey ends with that person; knowing that they are in good hands.