In September of 2003, I had a near death experience. It was a beautiful morning, around 9:00am, the air was fresh and crisp, and the sun was in its glory and even the birds were singing. The air conditioner had stopped working. I knew right away that the unit in the attic was clogged again and filled up with water. At the time, my parents were visiting me from Jamaica. My mom was right outside the opened garage door with my sister. They were chatting up a storm and admiring the colorful and beautiful flowers garden. My dad was mellowing-out and listening to jazz in the family room. I was like a thief in the night; I was busy placing the ladder beneath the attic door, and in a flash, I was climbing up like a little girl with a huge beige, plastic bucket in one hand, and a large white cup inside the bucket. My plan was to use the cup to scoop up the water. Soon, I began my mission, I was busy scooping the water up from the filled up metal container and filling the bucket. The bucket was full, and I stepped on the damp attic floor instead of the wooden beam and before I realized that I made a mistake, I burst through the attic floor and was flying in the air. The bucket made a huge crashing sound as well as a big splash as it broke into little pieces. There I was coming silently through the air; I didn’t make a sound. I remember thinking that this was a strange way for me to die. My eyes were opened wide and I could see a small, bright light. It got larger and became so brilliant and it stopped in front of me. This was become bizarre, because it communicated with me in some strange telepathic way. It definitely was not verbal. I felt an intense love that came from the light. The light asked me if I wanted to go with it. I was confused, and a part of me wanted to. I felt like if I went with it, I would die. I said ‘no’ softly, and the light began to recede. Then I saw my brother’s face, with his smooth dark silky skin and enormous brown eyes. I felt an intense warmth surround me.
My brother was smiling as he tilted his head. At this point, I saw myself bouncing on the parked car in the garage and straight ahead was my mom sliding in the water as she was running towards me with her two hands forming a cup. Everything was slow motion and my mom had an interesting look on her face. My head was just about to hit the concrete when my mom cupped my head with her big palms. She prevented the blow from happening. It was all so mystical and surreal. I broke four ribs and a pelvic bone. The paramedics were in awe that I was not in worse condition or dead from my 13 feet fall. Just then, the phone rang, and it was a phone-call from Jamaica saying that my Grandma was admitted to the hospital. My parents had to return immediately to Jamaica that same evening. By the end of the week, my Grandma passed away.
The possibility of an existence of life after death has always fascinated me. I am convinced now more than ever. I got a glimpse of it, not to mention that amazing feeling of peace that came over me. It was unlike anything else that I have ever experienced in my life. I cannot forget my brother’s radiant smile. It was surreal.
© Copyright-Angela Brent-Harris