Free My Glimpse of Eternity by Betty Malz Page A

third floor of Union Hospital.
    “Mrs. Perkins, I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but I have bad news. Your daughter, Betty, passed away a few minutes ago. We can’t reach her husband. Will you try and locate him and ask him to come to the hospital as soon as possible to make the necessary arrangements? If Mr. Upchurch can’t be reached, will you ask your husband to come to the hospital as soon as possible?”
    Mother pulled herself together as best she could. “My husband is on his way to the hospital right now. Please intercept him before he goes to Betty’s room. Seeing his daughter’s body will be a great shock for him.”
    The nurse promised she would be on the lookout for Dad and hung up. Mother lay down on her pillow and sobbed.

    In his own words, here is Dad’s account of what happened when he arrived at the hospital:
    “It was still dark when I parked my car near the back of the hospital. The time: about 5:00 a.m. There were faint streaks of light in the sky as I walked toward the nurses’ entrance because it was a much more direct route to Betty’s room. I climbed the two flights of stairs and headed for Betty’s room, number 336. Down the hall, I saw the black nurses’ aide leave Betty’s room and close the door. This was unusual; always before the door had been open.
    “I knocked softly on Betty’s door. There was no answer. I opened the door and walked inside.
    “The room seemed very dark and still. And empty. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I first noticed the absence of the life-supporting equipment. Startled, my eyes swung to the bed.
    “A sheet had been pulled up over Betty’s head!
    “Slowly the facts worked to a conclusion in my mind: Betty was dead. I stood there for several minutes in frozen silence as feelings of grief flooded my emotions. Then all that I felt focused on one word which I spoke several times fervently.
    “‘Jesus . . . Jesus . . . Jesus.’
    “It was a plea, a moan and a prayer. It was also the only word that ever made sense to me in times of great bewilderment, or pain or sorrow. I don’t know how long I stood there beside the bed. I only remember that the room lightened as the sun began to slip through the curtains.
    “Then my eyes were caught by something. Did I see a slight movement in the sheet covering Betty?”

7

The City of Tomorrow
    M y memory of the late-afternoon crisis and the rest of that day is blurred. Dimly I recall a crowded room, slipping into a coma, then coming out of it. I was vaguely aware that my parents left my hospital room first, John sometime later, that Nurse Barton watched me closely before she went off duty, that a young nurse’s aide was in and out of my room during the night.
    It must have been sometime around 5:00 a.m. when my body functions apparently stopped, much as they had earlier in the day. Only this time there was no one at my bedside to call for the emergency equipment.
    The transition was serene and peaceful. I was walking up a beautiful green hill. It was steep, but my leg motion was effortless and a deep ecstasy flooded my body. Despite three incisions in my body from the operations, I stood erect without pain, enjoying my tallness, free from inhibitions about it. I looked down. I seemed to be barefoot, but the complete outer shape of my body was a blur and colorless. Yet I was walking on grass, the most vivid shade of green I had ever seen. Each blade was perhaps one inch long, the texture like fine velvet; every blade was vibrant and moving. As the bottoms of my feet touched the grass, something alive in the grass was transmitted up through my whole body with each step I took.
    “Can this be death?” I wondered. If so, I certainly had nothing to fear. There was no darkness, no uncertainty, only a change in location and a total sense of well-being.
    All around me was a magnificent deep blue sky, unobscured by clouds. Looking about, I realized that there was no road or path. Yet I seemed to know where to