Sitting Next To Death

Mr. D.S.President and Facilitator —  Los Angeles

International Association for Near Death Studies

Dear Mr. S,

First let me tell you something about myself.  In 2002, at age 59, a had a stroke which left me paralyzed and unable to comprehend language.  Couldn’t understand reading, writing, or speech.  Its called aphasia. I was told that I ‘coded’ several times.  All I felt, [internally, as it were] was nauseous and dizzy.  And suddenly it was three weeks later.

I was in  a rehab hospital for several months.  But slowly, over the past decade, more and more competencies have returned.  I’m still paralyzed [right-side] but I have a good life.

Recently a dream from those times returned.  And that’s what prompted my inquiry to IANDS.  In the dream, I’m in some sort of temple.  Not clear if its Christian or Jewish, but there’s a distinct middle-eastern theme.  And the temple is HUGE.   And  empty.

A mysterious man comes in and sits right next to ME!!  Doesn’t do or say anything.  His very presence is ominus.  Just sits right next to me.  But why is he sitting next to ME.  There’s plenty of space elsewhere.  But he’s invading my space.

Well that’s all there was to the dream.  Until about a week ago.  But then, Kla-blam!!  I realized what it all means.

“HE” is Death. He’s not ready for me.  Yet.  He’s, like, sizing me up.

He knows he’ll win.  He always wins.  Just not today.   Not today!!  I respect him.  And he seems to respects me.  We’ve staked out our territory.

And it goes.   Until it doesn’t ‘go’ anymore.
—   —   —
So that’s my story.

You must know many stories, many instances like these.   I just need to be with in touch people who understand it all.

Hopefully you can help me find some.




2 thoughts on “Sitting Next To Death

  1. Years ago, my father was dying of prostate cancer, which had metastasized into the bone marrow. His pain was terrible, the descent tortuously slow.
    I was sitting at his bedside one afternoon when he told me he was ready to die.
    …right now… … …
    He took my hand, said goodby, then closed his eyes.
    Nothing happened.
    Some minutes later, he looked at me and confessed, “I don’t know how to die.”

    1. My dad had the good fortune to die in his sleep, during one of his characteristic afternoon naps. He did have Hodgkin’s Disease, but in no way was he wasting away.

      My mom just ‘disappeared’ one afternoon. She had just moved into a good senior residence. The boxes were still unopened. The ‘coordinator’ of the residence called; “We can’t find your mom!!” We called the police, local hospitals, searched the neighborhood. Nothing!!

      My daughter and I were scratching our heads; wondering what to do, sitting in her new apartment. Suddenly, my daughter screams: THE COVERS ARE MOVING!!!!

      My mother, 4″10′ at most, must have had a stroke, become paralyzed, struggled with the covers… … …and had been there for hours apparently hearing us but unable to move.

      The paramedics revived her and took her to the hospital, but later that night she died. Guilt?? Even now.

      That was 1998. Still hurts; just less.

      I’m sure she’d have forgiven me. We had a great relationship. But even the best way to die is still no way to die. Especially when one wants to music to go on forever. I don’t play. Used to sing. That’s the thing I’ll miss most: Music.

      Too much. Too much.

      Gotta go.


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