There is one subject that people tend to avoid—death. At the same time, people are curious about the subject
and want to know if there is life after death. I know that many of you are skeptics and no words will ever
make you believe the life changing experience that I had on Tuesday, June 17, 2008. There is one very
important question that I would like to ask you; but first I want you to think about people around you—those
people who you love very much.
On that day I awakened with the thought of going to work. My custom is to work on the Internet and writing
articles for my Website at least one hour before I go to work; but after about 20 minutes of sitting at my
computer I began to feel bad. I told my wife that I would not be going to work because I felt bad. So I sent an
e-mail to my supervisor saying that I would not be coming in to work on that day. I went back to bed hoping
the extra rest would make me feel better.
By 10:30 that morning I began to feel better so I sat down at my computer to write an article for my upcoming
VinePublication.com Newsletter. At about 11:30 a.m., I got hungry, so I went downstairs to the refrigerator to
get the sandwich that my wife had prepared for my lunch had I gone to work. No sooner than I had finished
the sandwich, my chest began to ache. 11 months prior I had a serious heart attack, and I have had several
smaller ones since, so immediately I recognized the pain and I knew I was having another serious heart
attack.
I called downstairs for my wife, Dorth, to help me, but she did not
answer. Then I remembered that she yelled upstairs to me saying
that she was going outside to put the garbage out. I looked for my
nitroglycerin which I usually hang on the door knob of my bedroom
door but it was not there. The pain was getting more intense as I
continued to look for my nitro. I eventually found it on my desk
where I had been working. I knew I had only minutes to get the
little life saving pill under my tongue, so I hastily opened the little
metal container that I usually kept around my neck to get at the
miracle pill that I thought would save my life.
Normally it would take 15 to 30 seconds for the pain to subside
after placing the nitro under my tongue but this time it was not
working. The pain grew in intensity and my vision began to fade.
Again I called out to my wife for help.Normally it would take 15 to
30 seconds for the pain to subside after placing the nitro under
my tongue but this time it was not working. The pain grew in intensity and my vision began to fade. Again I
called out to my wife for help.
“Hey,” I yelled, “I’m in trouble!”
She knew from the sound of my voice that the thing she feared even more than I did was happening at this
very moment—I was having another heart attack. I could hear her running up the stairs, but I proceeded to
make my way to my bed. As soon as I got in the bed I got dizzy and light headed. Dorth was now standing
directly over me.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” she asked. But before I could answer her the scenery changed. I was no
longer looking at my wife but I was looking at my son, Jamil. How can this be, I wondered. This is impossible, I
thought. My son was murdered in May of 2004; I had not seen him in a little over 4 years, but yet he was
standing about 20 feet in front of me with that big smile that he was known for, with his arms outstretched.
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