A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

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The blog has given me the opportunity to meet a lot of amazing people. I became friends with Leah Hatfield about a year ago and I have loved following her life on Facebook. She is a descendant of the infamous Hatfield & McCoy Feud, and her family is from Matewan, WV. We message back and forth occasionally and since she lives in Kentucky I feel a kinship with her. The other day I read a post from her and I contacted her to see if I could share her experience with all of you. I hope you are as touched by her story as I was.

My name is Leah Hatfield. I’m a wife, mother of six children, grandmother of one, a nurse and a writer. On a clear summer day, my life was forever altered.

I’ve never shared my near death experience in a public venue, but because I have a few friends dealing with life-threatening issues, I am sharing some of it here. I don’t seek sympathy. What would mean the most to me is that by me sharing it, you would examine your own life. Be in tune with your own spirit and your own heart. Ponder what life means to you and make a resolve to be fully alive and grateful from this day forward….

On June 10, 2004, following two separate surgeries to remove 2 separate brain tumors, a year apart, I left my parent’s home for a run. It was a beautiful, clear day as I made my way along the path I had jogged many times. I felt fine. It felt great to be alive.

Three miles into that run, I started to feel shooting pains in my head. I finished my run, a little dizzy, but still fine. When I reached my parent’s house, I sat down to take my shoes off and felt the most horrific pain in the back of my head, like someone had blown the back of my head off. I have a very high pain threshold, but this pain was unlike anything I have endured. Blood gushed from my mouth and nose and I fell to the floor. My dad, seeing what was happening, rushed to my side and yelled for my mom to call 911. Life Flight was called and I was quickly transported to the hospital.

I remember thinking, as I was trying to not choke on my own blood, “This is how I’m going to die,” 29 years old, with 4 children, the youngest of whom was just 4 months old. At first panic set in. Sheer terror…but then, I felt a calm take over, like a warm sensation of water pouring over my body. A feeling of calm accompanied that warmth…hard to describe. No fear. Just acceptance. It is a terrible yet oddly surreal feeling, to be dying yet calm.

I remember being pulled off the helicopter and hearing the report given by the flight nurse to the waiting trauma staff. It was very grim. By then they had managed to insert 2 naso-stats into my brain with no sedation and one of them had blown out as quickly as they could reinsert it. I was wheeled into the trauma bay as several nurses I worked with as a nurse myself, said simultaneously, “That’s Leah!” They shrieked in horror seeing the amount of blood still pouring from my nose and mouth. Eventually, that blood would also begin to flow out of my ears and eye sockets. By this time, I knew my life was about to end. I could hear my doctor friend, an ER attending physician, trying to talk to me in the flurry of chaos that had ensued. “Stay with us Leah….please stay with us!” he said, breathlessly.

My dad appeared through the frosted doors just then. My cousin trying to tug on his arm to get him back out of the room. I could hear my dad crying and also yelling in terror.

Then, at the foot of the table where I lay, my grandfather walked in. He appeared to pay no mind to anyone except me; only glancing once at his 2nd son who still stood near the door defiantly. My grandfather had been dead himself for 35 years and had died before my birth. As my eyesight started to dim, and a velvety blackness enveloped, I managed to mumble one word, “Papaw.”

The next thing I remember is another burning pain. This time in my chest…a sudden enormous sting. It was then that I lifted out of my body. Like a cat or a gargoyle, perched at the end of the OR table, I looked around to see my lifeless body. One arm fallen at my side. My eyes half open. Blood everywhere. My lips parted, in an attempt at one last gasp of air. Purple legs, purple feet. The palm of my out stretched hand, blue. Doctors and nurses scrambling. The crash cart being used. I was dead.

My spirit quickly lept thru the wall. I could see a small waiting room filled with my relatives. My dad, on his knees, crying…praying. My little aunt in a lavender skirt suit, wiping her nose. My own mother, calmly, ever so calmly, stirring her coffee. Uncles, aunts, cousins, their spouses. With others rushing thru the door. I can see all of them to this day, what they were wearing, where they were in that room.

I lept once more and suddenly, I was in another place, one that still defies sufficient description…..

A pink sky…all pink…the most brilliant shade of pink you could ever imagine. Light…the Light was everywhere…everything in that glorious place was illuminated by the Light. I could hear water bubbling from somewhere, smoothly flowing from some unseen spring. There was what appeared to be grass and tall plants except I’ve never seen these types on earth. Colors…colors that I never knew in my earthly life. The plants and grass seemed to teem with the Light, slowly moving on a soft breeze, a warm breeze that was blowing my bright auburn hair. Hair! I had hair! Lovely long, wild, wavy hair…

I could hear the flutter of wings somewhere….behind me….unseen yet present. There were tiny puffs floating everywhere. You know, in spring when the cottonwoods get away from their branches and float along? They were everywhere….

It was then that I saw the Tree. The most enormous, startling Tree I have ever seen. It was a ways off in the distance but almost right in front of me. It glowed white. It’s branches alive. The bark glistened and pulsed…it was a Living, breathing tree. Enormous fruit hung from it’s limbs…twinkling in the Light…the fruit looked as if it had been dipped in caramelized sugar, huge grains of sugar….

What I felt as I stood there was the most amazing feeling of love. Love that filled every fiber of my being. Happy…I felt happy….a childlike happy on Christmas morning amplified a thousand times…And then, I noticed one of those puffs was lazily floating towards me, growing bigger as it got closer. It morphed into the shape of a man. It was my Papaw. I ran to him, those plants and flowers in the field surrounding me parting to make a path, almost ushering me along…

I jumped into his arms. I hugged his neck. His skin so flawless and smooth. His thick, jet black hair brushed back from his face. He pressed his cheek to mine, still embracing my seemingly small body and said, “Papaw’s girl! It’s been a long day of waiting for you.”

I asked where I was. “You are home doll. Home.”

I need to tell you my Papaw died when he was 56 and wrinkled, a life of hard work had shown itself before his death. But here in this place, my grandfather was younger and he was perfect. Big grey eyes that smiled with love and kindness. Perfectly straight, white teeth framed by smiling lips. He smelled my head then held onto my hands as he stepped away to look at me.

“Am I dead?” I remember asking.

My papaw chuckled, “In a sense. Your body is gone but you are not. You are more alive now than you were before.”

I should say, I felt no sadness, just all of that happiness.

“Leah,” he said, I could detect his gentle mountain accent as he spoke, “There’s so many waiting to see you.”

I instantly knew who. My twin sister. My twin sister!!! I recall saying that twice to myself. And my dad’s sister who died when she had just begun to live….my mamaw, my mom’s dad…Marian, our next door neighbor who I adored….my great great grandmother whom I’d heard so much about….

My grandfather and I stood there talking, my hands in his. He shared things with me that I have yet to share with anyone…It was the best conversation imaginable…

And then, the rustle of those seemingly thousand wings somewhere behind me, began to shuffle with a quickening. My papaw looked up and nodded to whatever stood behind me. He looked back at me and said these words which I will never forget, “Papaw can’t take you right now. Just remember, when the time is right, Papaw will be standing right here, right here. Be strong and do not be afraid. I love you, Leah.” With that he pulled me to him, hugged me one last time, squeezed my hand, kissed my head and turned. He morphed back into a whispy, cottony form which flew towards that Tree and disappeared into the Light.

I remember waking up, gasping for air. Have you ever been underwater for a length of time then rushed to the surface, breathlessly taking in fresh air? My eyes felt oily, blurred. I saw a bag of blood hanging above my head and I began to weep. My mom was at my bedside, although I couldn’t see her I heard her say, “Get a nurse! There’s something wrong!”

There was nothing wrong except that I realized I was back in this body. A deep, nearly unbearable sadness sank in.

I’ve left out much here. The coma I was in, where I heard every word spoken around me but was unable to open my eyes or respond. I especially remember my dad’s voice in that room and hearing his prayers as he sat alone with me, thinking no one was listening. Is there anything on earth like the love of a parent?

Alas, here I am, in this body, forever changed, forever different. There is much more to my experience, as I mentioned, things that may make the hairs of your arms stand on end, but I am here. For how long? Just like you with your own mortality, I am not sure….

We don’t know when our time will come. Eat the cake, wear the bathing suit, celebrate each day, and tell those you love how much they mean to you.

Have a Blessed Day!

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130 Comments

  1. I’ve read stories of near death experiences before, but this one feels so much more touching to me because of the love felt from her father and grandfather. Very inspiring. And I agree, if she writes a book, or shares more of her story, please let us know. Thank you for sharing this today, Tania!

    1. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you Marie. ?

  2. Ramona Puckett says:

    Wow! I’m sitting here crying, thank you so much for sharing this. There are no words to say, thank you and love, love, and live each day to the fullest.

    1. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you! ❤

    2. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you Ramona. ?

  3. Elizabeth Bienvenu says:

    ❤️❤️

  4. Linda Bunger says:

    Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. My Pawpaw died many years ago and I know I will see him and many other family members one day “When I get to Heaven” (words from a hymn”). I have tears in my eyes, but they are happy tears because “Oh What a Glorious Day That Will Be”! Tania, thank you for being the blessing you are to us gurls!

    1. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you Linda. ?

  5. The last two sentences of this story are making me cry as once again I am reminded that the things I worry about..what I eat and yes, not wearing certain things because I don’t think I look good in them are not what’s important. A good reminder to live every day as if it’s our last and for sure to tell people that we love them. Thank you for sharing.

    1. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you Sandy. ?

  6. Vonda Seyna says:

    That was so amazing! I am grateful to you for sharing. Please let us know if she ever decided to write a book. I want s copy.

    1. Leah Hatfield says:

      Thank you Vonda. ❤

  7. Bonnie Henderson says:

    Thank you for sharing!

  8. Donna Rush says:

    Wow!!! So touching. Thank you for the post!!

  9. Carol Cook says:

    Why am I crying, oh my goodness!!! What a story, told by a most GIFTED writer. I would have been mad at you for NOT sharing it Tania. Thank you so much! This is so beautiful and leaves me with so much peace. You have done a great service, my friend. God Bless You, and Leah!