This year, I turned 64. One month after my birthday, I officially passed my father Harry, OBM, who died at age 64 years and one month when I was 18 years old. This year, I have lost friends from high school and have watched more than a few patients die from illness. I have learned of associates and family with terminal diagnoses. So, mortality has been on my mind even more than usual, and I have always been conscious of my lifespan after the loss of my father.
In my religion, little to nothing is said about “where” you go after death. It is your life on this earth that matters. However, I think that it is human to wonder about the next step in the cycle. I have read a number of stories about “near death experiences,” and have my own story of something similar.
When I was hospitalized after surgery, I was in my room. I was awake, not sedated, and not narcotized. The next moment I was in a long white hallway on a surgical gurney. My father was at the head of the bed and his brother, my uncle, was at the foot. Uncle Charlie read out a series of number, said my name and gave a date of death. My father told him that could not be right, I was too young. Charlie responded with the same information. Again, my father said that it didn’t make sense. Charlie said, “Harry, what can I tell you, this is what it says.” My father responded, “Screw it Charlie, we’re not taking him, he’s too young.” Then I was back in my bed at the hospital.
I asked a mentor who is an old Rabbi from Israel who has learned the Kabbalah. What he said was as follows; You were judged. Your father and his brother were your defending angels. And you were judged for the good and returned to this world. That was a mind-blowing answer. It was a metaphysical answer. I still don’t really understand the significance of the episode. And so, I think often about the day that will come when I am not returned to this world.
I have been a physician for 38 years and an attending surgeon for over 30 years. I have seen many patients pass through my doors and have watched many of my patients pass away. I’ve seen deaths that were terribly unfair and deaths that were welcome. I have watched patients fight for every moment and breath. I have seen patients say, please just make sure I’m not in pain.
What I have learned in my career in medicine is that there is no right way to die. Next to being born, it is the most individual experience we have as humans. And every person must go through the experience. While your family and friends can be there to help support you, it is still totally personal. What I can say for myself is that I pray that I approach death without regret. I pray that my family is there with me and understand that my passing doesn’t mean that I am gone. I am always with them in their hearts and minds. I look forward to the possibility that I will get to have a long discussion with my father. I’ve not disappeared. I’m just hanging out with a different branch of the family
