In the End

This morning, as I write this, I’m sitting behind my grandfather’s desk, while his chair swivels gently beneath me. Prior to today, this treasured piece of furniture use to reside in my father’s home. This past June my father passed away, and it has taken my brother and me until now to begin the heartbreaking, albeit inevitable task of clearing out his home.

Processing the reality of one’s mortality has to be, without question, one of the more peculiar aspects of life. I’ve never been able to be oblivious to this aspect. It doesn’t haunt me. It is however, very much a part of my awareness - perhaps because my own mortality was in question not too long ago. “If the hemorrhage in your brain had been off by two millimeters..,” began the neurologist. This said while he was standing next to my bed in the trauma center after I was torpedoed by a deer while leisurely riding my Harley home years ago. Had I been traveling any faster or wearing a lesser than helmet that day, I wouldn’t be here - today. This would be a fine time for you to grab a ruler, and take note of how incredibly minuscule the gap is, known as two millimeters. I'll wait...

Now that you are sufficiently stunned, I'll continue... I entered a peculiar place while I was lying unconscious on the side of the road that day. It was a place I had never been before, and yet it was very familiar. Its peculiarity due mainly to the fact that for the first time in all my existence I was not - in any way, shape or form - aware of my body. Although my body was still breathing while waiting for the ambulance, the place my mind occupied was not connected to this or any other routine human mechanics that have always in the past, reminded me that I was alive. This detachment from what I use to consider, myself, was the first significant thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was that the darkness surrounding me, didn’t feel confined. If one is in a room, and it is pitch dark, they can feel the presence of the walls. They may not be able to touch them, but they know this manmade boundary is there, just the same. This place, where I was, had no boundaries. But I wasn’t scared, and heaven knows, I didn’t feel any pain. Odd as I hadn’t yet been given the copious amount of morphine I’d soon be receiving. My body was experiencing at the time, a brain hemorrhage, twelve broken bones and gaping hole in its abdomen. Instead of pain, I felt only peace and calm.

I did however; feel certain my fate was being decided. And oddly enough, I didn’t mind. I also knew the one, in part, deciding it – was me. But not the me that was calmly waiting in the boundary less space. I had the undeniable sense that the me that was in negotiations with this something or someone was a level of myself that knew more than the conscious version that stumbles along in my day to day life knew. Again, this awareness didn’t bother me. Nor did it bother me that I didn’t have a clue what would ultimately be decided. In time I felt something shift, even though I wasn’t connected to anything that I could tell, I knew something was moving into place. With another, much more forceful and rather unpleasant shift, I began to hear the hurried words of the paramedic. I tried to move. The paramedic yelled at me to be still. I obeyed, and tried to open my gravel filled eyes.

I have to wonder if that place was experienced by my father shortly after his stroke. Did he too wait and wonder, or was his fate certain and he quickly transitioned. I will never know. But I do know this, if that place was indeed a transitional dimension, there is no pain there. If I had died that day, I wouldn’t have died feeling any of the damage my body suffered. Quite the opposite would be true.

Sitting in my dad’s house yesterday, gliding my hand gently across the bed he slept in moments before he died, I had to wonder about the journey he may have taken. What I do know for certain is the mind moves pleasantly into a place that resides beyond this one. Knowing that, allows me to smile even through my grief. He is fine, just as fine as I was when I was allowed a glimpse into this boundary less, painless place. 

And this – brings me peace.

Sane