Heavenly Confessions of a Muggle

Before I go any further, let me preface with a disclaimer: I am 100% Muggle. I am not psychic, I don’t see auras, and I don’t even get visions of what I’m going to have for dinner, much less the future. Nevertheless, I’ve seen things. Things that I’ve kept inside for a few years now and have only shared with those drunk or crazy enough not to judge me after the telling.  But something has shifted within me lately where I’m now ready to come out of the spiritual closet; i’m ready to throw my tale out there for the world to judge. Actually “ready” is an understatement, as I feel like I pretty much have to or I’ll burst. Maybe someone out there needs to hear this and that’s why I suddenly feel pushed to open the floodgates and let ‘er rip. Anyway, I figure busting out with a story like this one is an easy way to find out who your real friends are ;)
Last week I had the very humbling experience of being called (well more specifically, paged through hospital pager) to help a long-term patient of mine comfortably transition from this life to the next.  As I provided comfort measures, I glanced over at his family, and was taken aback as I saw reflections of my own family, two years prior, as we waited with my mom. I saw the uncertainty in their eyes, reflecting the confusing combo of wanting the gut-wrenching waiting to be over while simultaneously wanting anything but that. The emotions feel like the world’s worst break up meets up with motion sickness while having a hot date with starvation and then hooking up with exhaustion while getting amped up on Red Bull. It’s basically the emotional date from hell.  In a glimpse at their faces, I remembered those emotions and the million questions I had at the time about how the whole dying and heaven thing was going to work. But then I glanced up at my patient’s eyes, and I saw something truly spectacular. (This is the part where I start to sound crazy). I saw, quite clearly in each of his half-open eyes, a perfectly shaped, glimmering little white star. My first impression was “oh damn, I forgot to turn the lights down low, I suck butt at comfort measure-izing”...but then I looked around and there was absolutely nothing emitting light that could be reflecting so perfectly in his eyes. As my comatose patient gave a half-smile, I realized what was happening. I later confirmed it with my co-worker who had witnessed this before in dying patients; my patient saw heaven and , furthermore, appeared to be pretty stoked about it.
Now, let’s rewind to two and a half years ago, to my experience of which this “starry” episode reminded me. Its 2 AM, April 4, 2009, and I’m on an air mattress in Palm City, Florida, deep in REM sleep. My mom is 45 minutes away in Hospice care, but the doctors had assured us that she would be with us a few more days, so we all went home to get some rest.  All of a sudden, I am jolted out of my sleep by someone pushing me. It wasn’t a rude “jerk you’re on my side of the air mattress” push, but an eager push, similar to the excited shoves I would give my parents when they were sleeping in too late (ie past 6 am) on Christmas morning.  I opened my eyes and glanced over at the air mattress next to me to see my boyfriend at the time snoozing away. I turned my head the other way to try and figure out who woke me up. All of a sudden, very clearly, I “saw” in my mind’s eye my mom standing at these beautiful large gates. She was waving at me, clearly very excited and eager to go inside, but holding herself back to make sure it was ok with me. She reminded me of a kid eager to get out of her parents car to meet up with friends to go into a kick-ass new theme park, but politely holding back to make sure it was still ok with the ones she was leaving behind and not taking with her. It felt like a daydream, but amped up to the point where it felt like reality.  That being so, I gave a “go ahead, its ok” wave, and she excitedly went in. Afterwards, I laid there for a minute, wondering if I had dozed off just long enough to cause a crazy dream. Some minutes later, I heard my dad’s car pulling out of the driveway. Having no idea what time it was, I assumed that it was dawn and that he must have been unable to sleep and so was venturing down to Hospice early.  I lay there a few more minutes, wondering when my brother would wake up so that we too could venture down. After a few minutes passed, the telephone rang. I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, thinking it was my dad calling to ask me to bring something he had forgotten. As I answered the phone, I simultaneously looked at the oven clock and realized it was 2 am. I half- listened as the funeral home employee on the other end notified me that he was on his way and would be correlating with the organ donation site for pick up of the remains. Suddenly I realized what had happened. My mom had woken me up to let me know that she was leaving. The situation was too coincidental and the timing was too perfect for it to be otherwise.  I am so thankful that she did; otherwise the news would have been broken to me by a grumpy ,tired funeral home director. Apparently, my dad had received the call from Hospice on his cell phone and that was why he had left so early. But wow...that experience woke me up literally and spiritually...you can't come back the same from that.  I initially wanted to tell everyone...and even did tell a few people, but after getting a few blank “you be crazy” stares, I realized that perhaps that story should be one I kept to myself for a while. So I did...until now.
After that whole experience, I admittedly get very frustrated with people who fear death and postpone it with cruel life-saving measures that deprive quality of life.  I admit that I forget that a lot of people haven’t had experience with death to fully understand that it can be, if allowed, a very beautiful and peaceful process that is part of life.  I can’t fear it anymore; not after seeing, twice now, the eagerness and peace with which people cross over. Because of that, I’ve come to realize that the mini-crises of each day is nothing in comparison to the joy that awaits us after the curtain closes. In the meantime, I hope to live my life in a way that will get me a fast-pass to God’s amusement park when it’s all said and done...so far, everyone I’ve met who’s peeked through the gates has looked pretty excited about it. My new life plan is to keep it real, even when it gets embarassing and people judge you for it...because in the wise words of Liz Lemon ...Heaven: “I want to go to there”.