Four years ago in between his cancer treatments, my beautiful husband, Edgar, suffered a fatal heart attack. In our home, I witnessed his agonising last moments. Nothing eases grief except time, but there was something that happened to me decades earlier that brought with it an understanding that shifted my perspective on death.
Source: Supplied At 15 years old, I sustained critical injuries from a car accident. I was the backseat passenger in a car that skidded off a dirt road and hit a tree. There were fears that one of the tree's branches would collapse on the car, so there was panic and an urgency to get out.
But I couldn't move. I could hear the voices of the other passengers screaming at me to get out of the car. I still don't remember how I made it out of the car and onto the road.
At this point, something inexplicable happened. Everything went black. I remember hearing a comforting voice inside my head.
It told me to go and "find the cave on the side of the road". Without hesitation, I imagined myself walking for what seemed like hours, pain-free and calm, to this tranquil spot. I retreated into the darkest part of the cave, curled up, and slept.
While sleeping, I dreamt of my mother and I going shopping. Suddenly, I came to and felt the most excruciating pain. I looked up, and people were surrounding me, looking down at me, asking me to do things.
But I didn't know where I was, who they were, or what they wanted me to do. Everyone I was travelling with was in varying.
