In fact, David Kessler, one of the most renowned experts on death and grief, wrote a book called, "Visions, Trips, and Crowded Rooms: Who and What You See Before You Die.
The book discusses three uniquely shared experiences that challenge our ability to explain and fully understand the mystery of our final days.
According to the author 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.
There are hundred of "Death Vision" accounts. Here is mine:
Dad fell on Dec. 18 and broke his hip which required immediate surgery the following day.
Dad was 91 and surgery at the age is bound to open other issues. He went to inpatient recovery and on Jan. 24, was brought home.
He had several visits from his home care team. But he still appeared weak and not back up to his old self.
On 2/5 his home care physical therapist called his Primary Care doctor. His oxygen levels were low. We ended up rushing him to the hospital.
At the ER they took X-rays of his chest. He had fluid in his lungs, was in A-Fib (which is a heart condition we were aware that he had) and was severely retaining fluids in his legs and ankles. He spent the next 10 days in the hospital and then another 2 weeks or so back in patient therapy.
Long story short Dad's early years as a smoker and life-long career as a construction work had annihilated his lungs.
Construction workers back then didn't wear masks the way they do these days. His lungs had likely sucked in concrete dust, asbestos and who the heck knows what else for YEARS.
In the period between Feb 5 and Feb 26 when they sent him home, there might have been a week that he started to look, feel and eat much better. But by the time he was discharged he was already on a secondary downward turn.
He wanted to go home. He didn't want to be admitted in the hospital anymore. He kept saying he was tired and just wanted to be left alone. He had a Do Not Resuscitate on file and he wanted his bed!
During the time he was hospitalized, each day Mom and I and my brother Frank visited him, I would closely observe my Dad.
Here is what I witnessed:
The day we arrived in the ER Dad was actually touch and go. I sat in the ER room with him for hours as they did a bunch of tests and later prepped a room. He was in and out of wake states but when he was out he was having lucid dreams. He was mumbling and talking to someone. His legs started moving like he was taking a walk. He lifted his hands as if he was building something. He pointed to the corner. Later he grabbed the side of the hospital bed, opened his eyes and yelled, "I'm falling."
When he opened his eyes it took him a minute to realize where he was. In fact he had to ask me what was going on.
Often, he would stare off into the distance, his eyes clearly following something I and others in the room couldn't see. His body was here but it was obvious his mind and thoughts were elsewhere and I don't mean like he was senile. I mean like he was elsewhere in his thoughts.
When he got home Wednesday Feb. 26, he had some homemade soup from Mom. He drank a little bit but said he wasn't hungry. At this point he just wanted to be in bed and sleep. I would sleep in his room at night to tend to any of his needs.
Wednesday evening he slept and started talking to someone again. He lifted his hands in the air and I watched as his hands made the motions of hammering something into a wall or building something.
During the remainder of that night, Dad would let me know if he was soiled and I would change his diaper. But there were times where he would just open his eyes and again follow something I couldn't see.
Thursday morning, I cleaned him up and went to the kitchen to do some dishes. Dad called me to the room.
"Do you see that person standing there?" he asked me.
"No Dad I don't. Do you know who it is?"
He didn't answer but he kept looking in that direction for quite some time.
Thursday night into Friday morning was filled with more vivid dreams. He moved, looked around, talked and even laughed.
He asked me to change his diaper around 7:30 a.m. Friday Feb. 28. I got him cleaned up and he drifted back to sleep. Around 8:10 a.m. he woke up long enough to wave at my Mom as she walked in the room. She walked back to the kitchen to start breakfast. I was alone with Dad in the room. He looked beyond me, his eyes suddenly looked different as did his breathing. He had slight convulsion and he looked right at me.
He was gone right after that, I watched his last breath leave his body. I looked out the window he had been peering out at and saw the rain turn into a brief snow flurry. I looked back down and Dad's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened.
Of course I was in a bit of denial. I kept waiting to see if I would hear him snore again.
I called the hospice nurse immediately. She was at the house within minutes, checked his vital and pronounced him dead.
"He is gone, someone was here to greet him," I told the nurse.
She nodded but I don't think she realized what I meant.
Dad is now in a much better place. He is at peace and I know he is with whoever it was that made the trip back to our world to take him to Heaven.
Seeing him die was both a Blessing and something that is going to take some time for me to process.
Above is Mom, Dad and my brother Frank, Thanksgiving 2019 about a month prior to his fall. Below Mom, Dad and I at their 67th wedding anniversary dinner in April 2019.
Ibrahin Leon 10/12/1028- 2/28/2020
