Lucas: Death With Divinity

I woke up in the hospital bed Friday morning, my pillow wet with tears.

The doctors had shown us his brain scans, there was no activity outside of his brain stem–the damage was too deep. Our newborn son, Lucas, would not survive without the machines that were keeping his tiny body alive. He was full of tubes and in constant need of intervention. This was no way to live, but how could we let our only child go?

The bed creaked as my husband Craig crawled in next to me. He wrapped his warm arms around me as I buried my face in his chest and let out a deep wracking moan.

He kissed the top of my head and held me tightly. He didn’t try to fix me or make it better. After all, this was his son, too. Instead, as was his way, he pointed us toward Love.

“Let’s try to connect with his spirit,” he suggested.

With a deep breath, I nodded. I was willing to try. 

We lay side by side on our backs. Craig reached for my hand and clasped it tightly and I felt my body soothed as we closed our eyes and asked to connect with the spirit of our son, Lucas Jai. 

In the span of five seconds, my body was immediately overcome with a sense of weightlessness and I heard Craig draw in a sharp intake of breath. The feeling of floating upwards was palpable, as if two huge hands cradled me, carrying me–carrying us–higher and higher, through veils of white light. 

My senses went fuzzy and my body melted away. As the energy lifted me, the light seemed to change from white to lavender to a deep purple glow.  

In every direction there was only light with no end in sight. There were no boundaries, no edges, no bodies, no forms. 

An overwhelming feeling of love, joy, and ecstasy poured through me and engulfed me as I was surrounded by sparkling radiance.

I felt the essence of a large being of violet light that I instantly recognized as my son, and I felt Craig there too. My heart was flooded with the gratitude of knowing that not only was my son okay, he was absolutely luminous, brilliant, and full of love.

We continued to expand until there was no separation, until we were in complete union with the purple light surrounding us. I felt enveloped in more love than I ever knew existed. The three of us were ephemeral beings as we danced together–merging into the shimmering oneness of all that is. 

It was as if I was swimming in a sea of viscous, bioluminescent divinity. It felt infinite, full of love, as the three of us shared our souls with one another.  

Tears poured down my face and I laughed aloud with absolute wonder and awe. I heard Craig crying and laughing next to me. And without opening my eyes or coming out of the experience, I managed to speak.

“Are you feeling this?” I asked Craig.

Beside me, he laughed joyously: “Yes! Yes!”

It may have lasted two minutes or two hours, time was completely nonexistent. I could feel messages coming into me that I couldn’t grasp with my conscious mind, but I knew I was receiving wisdom. There was a deep, felt sense of simply knowing. Knowing our oneness. Knowing Lucas was okay, and knowing that we were going to be okay, too.  

In that moment, the fear vanished. The grief faded away. I knew deep in my being that in truth there was nothing to grieve. Lucas was a huge being of light; there was no loss for him. He was not that tiny body connected to tubes. He was a massive angelic being, truly well and whole. 

When the light started to fade, as if in synchronicity, Craig and I floated back down into our bodies. We instinctively turned our bodies inward and stared into each other’s eyes, tears still pouring down our faces. It was a moment of such deep and powerful connection. I could see straight into Craig’s soul and I felt him seeing the deepest part of me as well.

As we slowly came back to our senses, Craig shared his experience with me: the purple light, the feeling of his body evaporating, the divine union with everything. We had been to the exact same place together, and we both came away with this feeling of reawakening, of remembering, of love.

And most of all, an absolute knowing that death is simply a return to this love.

Craig and I slowly got up and dressed for the day ahead in a daze of exhilaration and connection. 

How could it be that we were filled with such grace and love as we readied for this intensely traumatic day? We were about to take our first-born child off of life support, but the love, the connection, the oneness with him, was deeply true in the core of our beings.

Craig looked into my eyes for a long moment and said, “Are you ready?”

I gave him a shaky smile through my tears, took his hand and said, “Yes, let’s go.” 

Filled with this knowing of God in my cells, my body was electric and I felt like I was floating an inch off the ground through an amorphic field. Like I was viewing Craig and this upcoming experience through a filter of Divine Love, one that vibrated with the frequency of peace and rightness.

The doctor gave us her large office for our family and a few friends to gather in. The group of supporters all made their way through the NICU, past Lucas’ room, and into her office to wait for us.

Craig and I stood with our arms around each other as the doctor gingerly removed the tubes and pulled the ventilator out of his throat. We talked to our son in quiet soothing voices, narrating what was happening. I could feel both of my feet on the ground. This was my first experience of being a mother and putting my child’s needs above mine.

When the doctor was finished, I leaned down and wrapped Lucas in a soft blue and white blanket and put the hat that my mom had made him back on his head. I picked him up and drew him in close to my chest.

It was the first time that I held him freely since he was born. Not covered in blood and quickly whisked out of my arms, not full of tubes attached to beeping machines, just this beautiful, perfect baby in my arms. I caressed every inch of his body. Touched his tiny fingers and toes. Felt his goose down dark hair. Marveled at how perfect his little body was. 

The doctor told us it would take about 15 minutes for his heart to stop beating.

With tears dripping onto our child, I carried Lucas into the office, Craig’s arm around me. It was filled with light pouring in from the east-facing wall of windows overlooking the gardens. I noticed the rain had stopped and it was a clear, blue sunny day as we sat on the couch between our parents. Our family and friends gathered around close, looking over our shoulders at our baby boy.

I asked everyone to call in all of their angels to help guide him home. “Dear God,” I prayed out loud. “Please make this passing easeful for my baby boy.” 

I took a deep breath and began to sing. The song I had sung to my baby for my entire pregnancy, the song that had been my entry point to the spiritual nature of birthing a child. I sang it over and over until everyone joined in. 

May the longtime sun shine upon you

All love surround you

And the pure light within you

Guide your way on

We sang him home. 

I handed Lucas to Craig while I kept my hand on his belly as he slowly began to turn blue. 

Fifteen minutes had passed. 

He was gone. He was home.