A near death experience for the Man in Black

“Only once have I been right up to it and seen it, (death). I was on a respirator in critical care with double pneumonia after my bypass surgery in 1988. There came a moment when, after fighting for breadth for so long and not getting it anymore, I felt myself fading away. I could hear the doctors---“He’s slipping, he’s slipping! We’ve got to do something fast!”---but their voices receded and everything got quiet and dark and calm and peaceful. Then a light grew around me, and it soon enveloped me, and it was more than light, it was the essence of light, a safe, warm, joyous brilliance growing brighter and brighter and more beautiful every moment. I began to drift smoothly into its very center, where it was so much better than anything I had ever experienced that I can’t possibly describe it. I was unbelievably happy. I’ve never felt such utter joy.

Then it just vanished. It just went. My eyes flew open and saw doctors. I couldn’t believe it. Sorrow welled up in me. I started crying, and then I got angry that I was sobbing and snarling at the same time. I found my wits and began trying to tell them to let me go, to send me back, but they had a tube down my throat, so I couldn’t get it across to them. I gave up trying.

And then, after a few minutes, I was glad to be back. I was restored, as they say to my senses. I never forgot that light, and it changed me. When I was still in the hospital and one of my children came into my room, I’d feel a strange overpowering blend of joy and sorrow, any my tears would roll. After I got home, I’d bawl like a baby over a passage in a book or a scene in a movie. When friends came over, I’d watch them and a solitary tear would sneak down my cheek. People got used to it. They’d see it and smile: there goes John crying again.

It’s not so extreme today, but I still cry at almost anything. It can be something as profound as the beauty of a grandchild in my arms or as trifling as the smile of pretty girl winning a skating championship on TV. Life has become more moving.” pp. 259-260, “Cash, The Autobiography”