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Apparitions Seen of Loved Ones at their Moment of Death
Reprinted, with permission of the author and publisher, from OTHERWORLDLY AFFAIRES: HAUNTED LOVERS, PHANTOM SPOUSES AND SEXUAL MOLESTORS FROM THE SHADOW WORLD © 1971, 2008 Brad Steiger
Published by Anomalistic Books. All rights reserved. No part of this article shall be copied in any way (both electronic and in print) without direct permission of the publisher.
Mrs. Stanely Wadell had not really expected to sleep well on that August night in 1948. Her husband lay in a comma in the General Hospital and his doctor had informed her that the end was near.
"There's nothing more that you can do here," the physician had advised her. "Why don't you leave the hospital and get some rest?"
Mrs. Waddell had explained to the doctor that she felt that her place must be at her husband's bedside. What if he should awaken and not find me there?" she had asked. "And it is too far to drive home and come back if he needs me."
"Your husband has not been conscious for days," the doctor said. "You appear to be on the brink of exhaustion. What good can you be to your children if you end up sick and in the hospital yourself? Get a room in a hotel near the hospital. Let the front desk know your number as soon as you've registered. I promise to call you if there is any change in your husband's condition."
Mrs. Waddell had caught a glimpse of herself in a large corridor window that the night's blackness had given a mirrorlike property. Her red-rimmed eyes looked deep-set because of the dark circles beneath them. Her hair was unkempt, disarrayed. Her face was puffy from crying, wan from lack of sleep. Perhaps the doctor was right, she had decided. She had better get some rest.
Now she lay beneath crisp hotel sheets, hoping that the drone of the air-conditioner might lull her to sleep. She checked her watch for what must have been the twentieth time since she had lain down shortly after midnight. It was 3:47 a.m.
Then, strangely, Mrs. Waddell sensed a familiar presence. "Stanley," she whispered, as she turned over on her back and sat up in bed.
She could see her husband clearly in the dim light of the hotel room. Somehow, in a manner that she would never be able to understand, Stanley stood at her bedside.
"I am leaving you now." Stanley said, his voice full and rich, as it had been before the terrible illness had wasted his strength, his body, even the timbre of his speech. "This old shell I've been using is no longer of any value to me. Don't worry. I'll always watch over you and our baby daughter."
Mrs. Waddell sat motionless long after the image of her husband had faded from the room. She was convinced that Stanley was dead, that his spirit had actually come to bid her good-bye, but grief had not been able to penetrate the dazed mental condition in which the sudden appearance of the apparition had left her. The part of her brain that was still thinking, still functioning, kept expecting the hospital to call and inform her of Stanley's death.
The call did not come until 10:00 a.m., more than 6 hours after her husband's apparition had appeared to her.
After she had attended to some of the details at the hospital, Mrs. Waddell asked to see her husband's ward doctor. When the physician asked politely if there were something that he might do for her, she asked if she could see her husband's chart.
"That's highly irregular and against hospital rules," the doctor began, then, struck by something in Mrs. Waddell's manner, ceased his mechanical recitation of hospital dogma. "Why do you wish to see your husband's chart, Mrs. Waddell?"
"I would very much like to verify the precise moment of my husband's death," she explained, "I..... I have a strong conviction that Stanley died at 3:47 a.m., even though the hospital did not phone me until 10:00 a.m. Please doctor," she said softly. "It is very important to me to know this."
The physician called to a nurse seated at a desk to bring Stanley Waddell's chart. When he had it in his hand, his eyebrows raised, and he showed the chart to Mrs. Waddell, his forefinger pointing to the time of death -- 3:47 a.m.
Mrs. Waddell's eyes brimmed with tears. She had not been dreaming. Stanley had appeared to her. Her beloved husband had come to bid her good-bye and to offer her dramatic evidence of the human personality's ability to survive the death experience.
As she turned to leave the ward, the nurse touched Mrs. Waddell gently on the arm. "You knew didn't you? Somehow you knew the exact moment your husband's soul left his body."
Mrs. Waddell nodded, unable to speak in her deep emotion.
"Someday," the nurse said, "I pray that I might experience proof of the soul's survival after death."
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