Objective evidence of shared death experiences

Neuropsychiatrist Peter Fenwick verified these objective experiences of a patient’s death, as reported by a nurse in a hospital in England . . .

We had a male patient in a side ward: his prognosis wasn’t good, although death wasn’t deemed imminent. He had two relatives who had decided to stay the night, in case his condition worsened. They retired to an overnight room reserved for relatives.

Around 3:00 AM, I was chatting with another nurse at the nurse’s station, which was illuminated by a single light. When I saw a white mist at the end of the nursing station. It was there and it was gone. I immediately thought of a fire, perhaps from the kitchen a little way down the corridor. I walked to one end of the ward and my colleague went to the other end. She checked the side rooms and hurried to find me to say the man in question had died, seemingly only just.

We hurriedly phoned the Night Sister to rouse the sleeping relatives. While waiting for them to appear, more relatives of the deceased arrived. They told us they had woken suddenly at home and just felt the urge to visit the hospital, feeling something was wrong

Raymond A. Moody with Paul Perry, Glimpses of Eternity: An Investigation into Shared Death Experiences (London: Rider, 2010), 128-129.

Objective and subjective anomalous knowing

In his 2012 book Paranormal: My Life in Pursuit of the After Life, Raymond Moody reminds us that those sharing in the death experience, as caregivers or loving relatives, are not experiencing the body and physical brain damage that may interfere with the normal brain functioning of a dying patient. While we may presume both caregivers and relatives are emotionally involved while experiencing in diverse ways the dying of a patient, there is no reason to conclude their perceptions or memories were physically impaired. Moody, therefore, asserts: “Some parts of these experiences are objective (for instance, people’s claim that the room changed shape or that they saw a bright light that drew them toward it), while others are subjective (as in witnessing a dying person’s life review that reveals previously unknown secrets).

Raymond A. Moody with Paul Perry, Paranormal: My Life in Pursuit of the Afterlife (HarperCollins, 2012), 236.

Often the evidence from a shared near-death experience is both objective and subjective. The mother of a newborn boy named Jason, who died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) a week after his mother had a surprise visit from her deceased father . . .

I was sitting in my living room reading a paperback book. The baby was asleep in his crib, and I was resting because I had been up half the night with his fussiness. As I was sitting there in the quiet, I had the feeling that I was not alone. I wasn’t afraid, I just wasn’t alone.

I looked up and there was my father. He had been dead for a year, but there he stood. For some reason I wasn’t surprised at all. He was just there for a second or two, but I heard him tell me, “Jason is coming with me.” I knew exactly what he meant. He meant that my baby was going to die.

Melvin Morse with Paul Perry, Parting Visions: Uses and Meanings of Pre-Death, Psychic, and Spiritual Experiences (Villard Books 1994), 66.

Physicians hear laughter after patient dies

Dr. Paul Sanders was a family physician before retiring. He told Dr. Janis Amatuzio of his own personal experience that was extraordinary.

I had just arrived home from work one evening when the phone rang, and the nurse told me that Dad had suffered a cardiac arrest. Those were the days before the patient directives and do not resuscitate orders were in place.

Dr. Sanders rushed back to the hospital and to his Dad’s room. He recalls: As I got to the doorway something quite extraordinary happened. I glanced to my left and saw my father’s motionless body lying in bed, ringed by nurses with their backs to me. Dr. Seacamp was on the other side of the bed, intently doing CPR. He glanced up quickly as I stopped in the doorway. 

 

And just at that moment, I was startled when to my right I heard more than sensed the absolutely unmistakable sound of my father’s booming laugh. It was bold, gleeful, and joyful, that wonderful sound I hadn’t heard in so many months as he suffered with his disease. My heart jumped with joy.

I knew in an instant that he was fine, and I turned to Dr. Seacamp, saying, “Let him go.”

Oh, so you heard him, too! Dr. Seacamp, replied.

I knew something extraordinary had happened and that we had witnessed a miracle. I miss my father greatly, but I will never forget the sound of his laughter and the experience of awesome joy as I walked into that room. 

Janis Amatuzio, Beyond Knowing: Mysteries and Messages of Death and Life from a Forensic Pathologist (Novato, CA: New World Library, 2006), 160-161.

Bedside of the dying offers view into eternity

Psychiatrist Raymond Moody in his 2010 book Glimpses of Eternity documents “shared death experiences” involving physicians, nurses, and hospice workers. A hospice psychologist in North Carolina writes of her experiences: 

The deathbed scene is not fully in this world. And although I am not religious, hospice work has awakened me to a spiritual dimension of life.

In my opinion, everyone who works with the dying long enough must have some awareness of these experiences. I believe the spiritual experiences of dying people somehow leak out and pervade the area around them. If you step into that area with the right temperament, you will receive, I feel, a sense of the sacred in the presence of the dying.

I have experienced the room taking on a different configuration a number of times. The only way that I can describe it is that moving energy pulses through the room. I often feel something that I can’t name.

The bedside of the dying offers a view into eternity. Like looking through a window into elsewhere, from time to time I see lights and twice have had clear views of what appear to be structures. On both occasions I saw patients leave their bodies in a cloud form. I saw them rise out of their bodies and head toward these structures.

I would describe these clouds as a sort of mist that forms around the head or chest. There seems to be some kind of electricity to it, like an electrical disturbance. I don’t know if I see it with my physical eyes, but it’s there all the same. There is no doubt in my mind that you can sometimes see people depart for the other side.

Shared death experiences may confirm communication between the living, dying, and dead. A sergeant at Fort Dix in New Jersey sharing his experience, which was verified by his physicians:

I was terribly ill and near death with heart problems at the same time that my sister was near death with a diabetic coma in another part of the same hospital. I left my body and went into the corner of the room, where I watched them work on me down below. Suddenly, I found myself in conversation with my sister, who was up there with me. I was very attached to her, and we were having a great conversation about what was going on down there when she began to move away from me.

I tried to go with her but she kept telling me to stay where I was. “It’s not your time,” she said. Then she just began to recede off into the distance through a tunnel while I was left there alone.  When I awoke, I told the doctor that my sister had died. He denied it, but at my insistence, he had a nurse check on it. She had in fact died, just as I knew she did. (90-91)

 

Raymond A. Moody with Paul Perry, Glimpses of Eternity: An Investigation into Shared Death Experiences  (London: Rider, 2010), 102-03. 90-91.

Dream of a dead loved one

After Dr. Amatuzio published a book with the title Forever Ours, about her patients’ extraordinary experiences, colleagues began to share with her their experiences. Susan, who worked in the county jail, told Dr. A, as she was known to her colleagues, about dreaming of her Grandpa Dewitt.

Two nights after I read your book, I had a dream; Grandpa Dewitt came to visit me. He looked wonderful, and he was so happy. He took me by the hand and we went down to the pond with the fountain in it, at the nursing home he had just been moved to. We sat there and had the best talk ever, about all sorts of things. I remember being so incredibly happy. In fact, when I awakened, I felt we had actually talked, it was so vivid; I felt like he had really been there.

I decided to call him right then, that morning, and go with him to see that pond and fountain for myself. As I reached for the phone, well, you know what happened, don’t you? It rang! I was even more startled when I heard my girlfriend’s voice on the line. Susan, she said in a tearful voice, I got a call from the nursing home this morning, just now. Grandpa Dewitt died last night! They found him in bed; they said he just died in his sleep! 

 

Janis Amatuzio, Beyond Knowing: Mysteries and Messages of Death and Life from a Forensic Pathologist (Novato, CA: New World Library, 2006), 93-94.

Out-of-body experience during surgery

Mike was hopeful as he was prepped to receive a pancreas and kidney transplant, to replace his damaged organs. After his surgery, as his wife, Kim, was sitting with him, his first words to her were, My donor’s name is Danne. When later Kim asked him how he knew his donor’s name, Mike told her his experience.

I remember that everything before the operation was a blur. I was so excited and rushed and, you know how I felt. He paused. You know someone died so I can live. That’s giving the ultimate gift. And his eyes welled up with tears.  

Something happened to me in there. Something happened during surgery. 

At some point I realized I could hear all of the conversations in the operating room, and then I could see what was happening to me from up above. There was no pain; I just watched everything. I saw the organs brought into the OR after mine had been removed. They were in a blue container and packed in ice. At that moment, I felt such an extraordinary wave of love and gratitude. It was so intimate, so profound, that in that moment I said, “I want to see my donor.”

In the next instant, I just seemed to pass through a wall. Just like that! And then I saw him; he was lying there. He was a real good-looking man, with long, sandy hair, and he looked about my age. Mike paused as if struggling for words. I was just sucked up into the light. You know, Kim, it as like a giant vacuum cleaner, he said with a smile. I felt myself suddenly, abruptly lifted up by this incredible force, this light, and I heard the words, “Danne died and you are going to live.”

I saw three luminous beings. One of them I recognized as my aunt. She was wearing the scarf I’d given her before she died. Next to her was Danne, and the other being, well, he was so familiar, someone who had known me all my life, but I just could figure out who he was. I felt such love, such passion, and such joy. Kim, there just aren’t words. There aren’t words for it. He paused. But you know, I’m different now. I know something. I know who I am, and I will forever know that I was in a sacred, familiar place. I will never fear anything again. Life and love is all there is.

Danne Lynch had died that night in a car accident, and after Kim discovered in Danne’s published obituary the address of his mother, Kim wrote her a note expressing her gratitude for her son’s organ donations. Several weeks later Mike and Kim met Danne’s mother, and when Mike saw a photo of Danne he said that was the person he saw in his out-of-body experience during surgery.

Janis Amatuzio, Beyond Knowing: Mysteries and Messages of Death and Life from a Forensic Pathologist (Novato, CA: New World Library, 2006), 114-118.

Dr. Amatuzio as child meets lifelong guardian

At age four, Dr. Amatuzio had a life-altering experience. After her mother tucked her into bed for an afternoon nap and left the room, she writes: “A large, light-filled being appeared at my bedside. He was surrounded by soft white light laced with brilliant dancing colors as if they were bouncing from a prism in bright sunlight. He was so familiar in such an intimate way, it was if I had known him forever. He took my hand gently and lifted me effortlessly up out of bed.

“The light surrounded both of us yet didn’t hurt my eyes. It was warm and comforting. I began to play with it, and colors bounced and swirled with just the touch of my hand. I remember splashing swirling them, and laughing with joy when they began to take on form. Then he took my hand, and together we left the bedroom. The beautiful light continued to swirl around us, and suddenly two luminous horses emerged to carry us high above the earth. We soared over the most beautiful land ever seen, filled with all the colors of the rainbow and more. The hues in the light seemed to shimmer and vibrate as if alive, connecting heaven and earth.

“As we soared on the backs of the beautiful horses, the being told me he was my guardian and guide. Without words, with only his thoughts, he told me he would accompany me throughout my entire life, as if riding by my side. He sent a wave of light streaming toward me. I remember reaching for it and wrapping it around me. As I did, an amazing feeling of love, joy, and ecstasy filled my heart, as well as a knowing . . . that together we would grace the land with beautiful light. I knew that I had never been so happy as right then and there.” 

 

Janis Amatuzio, Beyond Knowing: Mysteries and Messages of Death and Life from a Forensic Pathologist (Novato, CA: New World Library, 2006), 9-10.

 

The International Association for Near-Death Studies (IANDS) reports: "that about 85% of children who experience cardiac arrest have an NDE. With improving cardiac resuscitation techniques, more and more children are surviving cardiac arrest." In a study of over 270 children, P. M. H. Atwater found that "76% reported a comforting 'initial' experience."

https://iands.org/childrens-near-death-experiences.html#a1