Author: David Kessler
Genre: Non-fiction
Publisher: Hay House, Inc., 2011
Pages: 192
Rating: Recommend
Synopsis: David Kessler, one of the most renowned experts on death and grief, takes on three uniquely shared experiences that challenge our ability to explain and fully understand the mystery of our final days.
The first is "visions." As the dying lose sight of this world, some people appear to be looking into the world to come. The second shared experience is getting ready for a "trip." The phenomenon of preparing oneself for a journey isn't new or unusual. In fact, during our loved ones' last hours, they may often think of their impending death as a transition or journey. These trips may seem to us to be all about leaving, but for the dying, they may be more about arriving. Finally, the third phenomenon is "crowded rooms." The dying often talk about seeing a room full of people, as they constantly repeat the word crowded. In truth, we never die alone. Just as loving hands greeted us when we were born, so will loving arms embrace us when we die. In the tapestry of life and death, we may begin to see connections to the past that we missed in life. While death may look like a loss to the living, the last hours of a dying person may be filled with fullness rather than emptiness.
Review: First, a little back story. I was close to my maternal grandmother, and she passed two weeks before my youngest child was born. She was 96 yeas old and had told me nearly one year earlier, on her birthday, that she did not want to live to see 97. She was ready to be reunited with her family, all of whom had passed on before her, her husband, and it was time to just rest. Her mind was good, but her body was failing.
I was at peace with her passing. I had her in my life for 37 years, she had met my daughters and they were old enough to have lasting memories. There was nothing left unsaid, and she had told me herself that she was ready. I attended her funeral, very very pregnant, but not going was never an option.
I packed my bags and had my closure, or so I thought.
She passed away on February 1, and my son was born on February 15. Either later on the 15th, or it could have been the 16th, he and I were alone in the hospital room. He was napping, and I was in that weird in-between state between awake and asleep. Laying there with my eyes closed and about to drift off, I felt my grandmother speak to me. Right in my ear I felt her say, "he's perfect, and we love him." At the same time, eyes still closed, I had a vision of a veil (or scrim), and behind it a mass of people (unrecognizable to me) standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and as far back as I could see. Trying to see both my grandmother and those who were in the room with us behind the veil, I rolled my head from side to side against the pillow and struggled to open my eyes. Finally, I forced my eye muscles to work and wrenched them open. I saw a flash of burgundy, the color of the only winter coat I ever remembered her wearing, and she was gone.
I've reflected on this experience for almost a decade now. When this book came to my attention, it was a no-brainer to read it. I had a glimpse into life after death.
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