Dying to Be Me (13 page)

Dad, it feels like I’ve come home! I’m so glad to be here. Life is so painful!
I told him.

But you’re always home, darling,
he impressed upon me.
You always were, and you always will be. I want you to remember that.

Even though I hadn’t always been close to my father while I was growing up, all I could feel emanating from him now was glorious, unconditional love. During my physical life with him, I’d often been frustrated by his attempts to make me conform to Indian cultural norms, such as trying to get me married young and making me feel like a misfit because I didn’t always comply. But in this realm, I became aware that without any physical restrictions or the ties of all his cultural conditioning and expectations, all he had for me was pure love.

The cultural pressures he’d put on me during life had all dropped away, because they were all only part of physical existence. None of that mattered after death; those values didn’t carry through into the afterlife. The only thing that remained was our connection and the unconditional love we had for each other. So for the first time, I actually felt cherished and safe in my father’s presence. It truly felt amazing, as though I’d finally come home!

Our communication wasn’t verbal, but a complete melding of mutual comprehension. It wasn’t just that I
understood
my father—it was as though I
became
him. I was aware that he’d been with my entire family all through the years after he’d passed. He’d been with my mother, supporting her and watching over her; and he’d also been with me through my wedding and my illness.

I became aware that the essence of my father was communicating with me more directly:
Sweetheart, I want you to know that it’s not your time to come home yet. But it’s still your choice whether you want to come with me or go back into your body.

But my body is so sick, drained, and ridden with cancer!
was the immediate thought that came flooding through me.
Why would I want to go back to that body? It has caused nothing but suffering—not only for me, but for Mum and Danny, too! I can’t see any purpose in going back.

Not to mention that the state of unconditional love was just so blissful, I couldn’t bear the thought of returning. I wanted to stay where I was forever and ever.

What subsequently happened is incredibly hard to describe. First, it felt as though whatever I directed my awareness toward appeared before me. Second, time was completely irrelevant. It wasn’t even a factor to consider, as though it didn’t exist.

Prior to this point, doctors had conducted tests on the functioning of my organs, and their report had already been written. But in that realm, it seemed as though the outcome of those tests and the report depended on the decision I had yet to make—whether to live or continue onward into death. If I chose death, the test results would indicate organ failure. If I chose to come back into physical life, they’d show my organs beginning to function again.

At that moment, I decided that I didn’t want to return. I then became conscious of my physical body dying, and I saw the doctors speaking with my family, explaining that it was death due to organ failure.

At the same time, my father communicated with me,
This is as far as you can go, sweetheart. If you go any further, you cannot turn back.

I became aware of a boundary before me, although the demarcation wasn’t physical. It was more like an invisible threshold marked by a variation in energy levels. I knew that if I crossed it, there was no turning back. All my ties with the physical would be permanently severed; and as I’d seen, my family would be told that my death was the result of organ failure caused by end-stage lymphoma.

The unconditional love and acceptance was incredible, and I wanted to cross the threshold in order to continue to experience it for eternity. It was as though I was enveloped in the oneness, the pure essence of every living being and creature, without their aches, pains, dramas, and egos.

I turned my awareness toward my distraught family’s reaction to the news of my death. I saw Danny’s head buried in my lifeless chest, holding my frail hand. His body was shaking with deep and inconsolable sobs. My mother stood over me, looking white as a sheet in disbelief. And my brother, Anoop, arrived to the shock that he didn’t make it in time.

Before I became sucked into what was going on with my physical existence and my family, however, I found myself being drawn away from my emotions. Once again, I was surrounded by the reassuring feeling of a greater story unfolding. I knew that even if I chose not to go back, everything was exactly as it should be in the grand tapestry of life.

I
N THE MOMENT THAT
I
MADE THE DECISION TO GO
on toward death, I became aware of a new level of truth.

I discovered that since I’d realized who I really was and understood the magnificence of my true self, if I chose to go back to life, my body would heal rapidly—not in months or weeks, but in days! I
knew
that the doctors wouldn’t be able to find a trace of cancer if I chose to go back into my body!

How can that be?
I was astounded by this revelation, and wanted to understand why.

It was then that I understood that my body is only a reflection of my internal state. If my inner self were aware of its greatness and connection with All-that-is, my body would soon reflect that and heal rapidly.

Even though I always had a choice, I also discerned that there was something more….
It feels as though I have a purpose of some sort yet to fulfill. But what is it? How do I go about finding it?

I perceived that I wouldn’t have to go out and search for what I was supposed to do—it would unfold before me. It involved helping lots of people—thousands, maybe tens of thousands, perhaps to share a message with them. But I wouldn’t have to pursue anything or work at figuring out how I was going to achieve that. I simply had to allow it to unfold.

To access this state of allowing, the only thing I had to do was
be myself!
I realized that all those years, all I
ever
had to do was be myself, without judgment or feeling that I was flawed. At the same time, I understood that at the core, our essence is made of pure love.
We are pure love—
every single one of us. How can we not be, if we come from the Whole and return to it? I knew that realizing this meant never being afraid of who we are. Therefore, being love and being our true self is one and the same thing!

As I experienced my biggest revelation, it felt like a bolt of lightning. I understood that merely by being the love I truly am, I would heal both myself and others. I’d never understood this before, yet it seemed so obvious. If we’re all One, all facets of the same Whole, which is unconditional love, then of course
who we are is love!
I knew that was really the only purpose of life: to be our self, live our truth, and be the love that we are.

As though to confirm my realization, I became aware of both my father and Soni communicating to me:
Now that you know the truth of who you really are, go back and live your life
fearlessly
!

CHAPTER 9

Realizing the Miracle

As I lay there in the hospital, even before anyone informed my brother that I was in a coma and my final stages of life, he sensed something was wrong. Anoop was living in Pune, India, and something compelled him to contact a travel agent and book a flight to Hong Kong. When he called, he requested a ticket for later that very day because he felt a sense of urgency. The agent said that flights out of Pune were already fully booked, but there was one from Mumbai. Anoop took it, and rented a car to drive the four hours to get on that flight to Hong Kong.

When Danny called my brother’s home in Pune to inform him of my condition and tell him to come as soon as possible, my sister-in-law, Mona, picked up the phone and told Danny that Anoop was already on his way.

When Mona, who’s Buddhist, became aware of just how dire my condition was, she urgently organized a group of fellow Buddhists to chant for my healing.

Meanwhile, here in Hong Kong, my mother was pacing up and down the corridor of the hospital, praying to Shiva for my life. She felt helpless, not knowing what more she could do, so she made her way to the Hindu temple—the very same one that my parents took me to as a child. She walked up the wide staircase at the entrance, through the courtyard, and into the main prayer hall where the large, life-size statues of the deities Krishna, Shiva, and Ganesha on their pedestals lined the front wall, painted and adorned in bright colors. My mother covered her head and sat before them with her head slightly bowed, speaking with them and drawing comfort from their presence.

At the same time, a close family friend of ours named Linda, who’s a devout Catholic, organized a prayer group at her church. She told the priest about my situation, and they offered my name in prayer.

As I lay comatose on my bed, with all the tubes coming out of my nose, mouth, and arms, my husband stayed by my side, whispering to me in order to let me know that he was there, telling me to come back.

“We still have so much to do together, my darling,” I could hear Danny whispering. “Please,
please
come back. I’m going to wait right here for you, even if it takes a lifetime.”

He’d stayed awake the whole night, watching all the dials and meters above my bed, waiting, not wanting to miss it if I were to take my last breath, willing me to come back.

Dear, dear Danny. I hope you’ll always know how much I love you,
I found myself wanting to communicate with him.
Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I wish I could share with you what I now know. That body whose hand you’re holding isn’t the real me. We’ll always be together, connected through all of time and space. Nothing can separate us. Even if I physically die, we’ll never be apart. Everything is perfect, just as it is. I know that now, and I want you to know it, too.

Then, at about 4 a.m., my body suddenly started choking. I was gagging as though I couldn’t get air. Danny panicked, thinking this was my last moment, and rang the emergency alarm. The nurses rushed in and agreed that I was choking, and one of them called the doctor. Then they turned my body around and started hitting me on my back.

It took about 20 minutes for the doctor to get there, and he told Danny that my lungs were filled with liquid, and I was choking on my own fluid. The doctor ordered the nurses to bring in a pleural-effusion kit. After they brought in what looked like a transparent bag with a long needle, he inserted the needle through my back and into my lung, drawing out some liquid, which drained into the transparent bag. He repeated this three or four times, until there was what looked like almost a liter of liquid in the bag, and then he removed the needle. I could still see my body, and it was breathing easier now.

My husband continued to stay at my bedside throughout the morning and well into the day, watching all the dials and meters above me and holding my hand.

My brother arrived in Hong Kong in the afternoon and called Danny from the airport on his mobile phone.

Danny told him, “Don’t even go home to put your luggage down. Just come straight to the hospital in a taxi. We don’t know how long we’ve got,” so Anoop came straight to the hospital with his bags.

M
Y EYES STARTED TO FLICKER OPEN AROUND
4
P.M.,
and my vision was very blurred. I could barely see that the outline of the figure standing over me was Danny, and then I heard his voice: “She’s back!”

He sounded so happy. It was the afternoon of February 3, about 30 hours after I’d entered the coma.

Then I heard my brother’s voice, and I could feel myself trying to smile.

“Hey, sis! Welcome back!” Anoop said with audible joy.

“You made it!” I exclaimed. “I knew you were going to be here. I saw you coming on the plane.”

He looked a little bewildered, but dismissed my comment. My family was just happy that I appeared to be coming around. My mother was there, too, smiling as she took my hand. I was confused because I didn’t realize I’d been comatose, and I couldn’t yet fully comprehend what was happening or understand that I was no longer in the other realm.

My vision was slowly becoming clearer, and I could make out my family more easily. I saw Anoop’s suitcase just behind him against the wall.