A Second before my Death

I arrived with my wife Anne at the International airport in the evening and we learned that a flight to Canary was departing in one-and-a-half hours.  I have never had any worries about flying in commercial airlines but the first time I flew in a small single-engine plane, I swore I would never get into a small plane again. That afternoon, I was lucky, someone gave me his ticket. My final comment as I left my wife indicated that I was looking for a quiet time to unseal the secret and fear which had long hidden in my very inmost heart. My wife and I very rarely quarrel, and when we do, it doesn't last very long. Before Anne left the airport, I observed that she was full of fears and she could not give any reason for that.

Just about six minutes after we took off, everything began to slow down. As a passenger in the back of a plane, I thought nothing was going wrong. So, having nothing else to do, I went through the procedures they taught us to go through in emergencies. “Get off the oxygen mask, release your safety belt, and dump yourself out.” I tried all these but already I knew I would be dead in a second.

Last night, I could remember my last son asking me series of questions, “Dad! What does it feel like to be convinced you're going to die in the next second?” “Dad! How does it feel when you are sure you cannot save yourself?” “Dad! Do people know or feel their death before they die?” All these questions gave me a concern, even when I did not pay attention to him.

Inside the plane, the noise was like the roar of Niagara. The vast sea of human beings seemed to be agitated as if by a storm. Some of the people were singing, others praying, some crying for mercy in the most piteous accents, some were screaming, some were jumping and pushing which made two women to faint while others just stood in shock as the plane began to glide down.  I was neither praying nor crying because, already I knew I would be dead in a second.

Beyond their additional job of providing safety for others, the flight attendants were moving around, smiling and providing hope as though they will not die. They were trying to provide routine services and respond to emergencies to ensure the safety and comfort of airline passengers while I was thinking about the mistakes I have already made. These attendants are trained to deal with a wide variety of emergencies, and are trained in first aid, but when we all die, who will give first aid? They seemed to have considered appearance as one of the most important factors in becoming a female flight attendant. Their uniforms were often formfitting, complete with white gloves and high heels.  

The smile of one of the attendants brought into me the memories of Anne. When I remembered my wife Anne, I was speechless, I felt like crying, but I thought shedding tears, especially now I know I cannot apologize to her is worthless. I did not know what I was losing until now. Anne deserved fidelity, but I denied her such. She was really a good wife and mother, but I never appreciated her. There was a small couch against the wall of my room opposite my bed where a hid all the documents for the landed properties, which I did not inform her. I wish with all my soul I could take her hand, kiss her hand, brush her cheek with my fingers and take her to where I kept those documents. I wish I could tell her how much I regret those dreadful words I had said to her all those years ago. My wife had her own checking and savings account which I am aware and I have mine which she was not aware.

I was married with Anne for ten years and we have three beautiful kids and a stable job and just had bought a house at Kelowna. Before I got married with her, I met this girl who I thought was the love of my life, but I decided to get married with Anne. My ex-girlfriend showed me nothing but faithfulness which made me to cheat on Anne. I now realize that it is too late. I really regret this, and I wish I could apologize to my wife.

Basically, a man should only have good words for his wife. Even when she does badly. A man should call his wife with good words and sweet names. I called my wife some bad names; stupid, useless, slut, ugly and made some accusations which she did not deserve. When I married her, I promised to be with her in good faith, treat her as a wife should be treated, but all these, I never did. She always spoke to me only with gentleness; her words are always carefully chosen, but mine was harsh. I have been so guilty, I cannot think Anne or God would forgive me. I regret not being able to tell her, “I am sorry.”

“…but before I die I would like to make a statement O Lord.” "I am going to confess that you forgive me, and my confession will be my defense, although it will not be sufficient to save me." I said this prayer as though I ever believed in prayer, but only now that I know I can do nothing else to save myself. I thought I could save myself through science, but now I have found out that science has limitation. At one time I used to wear scapular and carry a rosary round in my pocket to save myself a trouble. I am not sure if this was as a result of my personal conviction but because of a story I heard. Anne once told me that I was labeling myself as a religious man, even when I was not. I did not have the rosary because I loved to say it, but because I want people to accept that I was a good man.

The intensity of cry was increasing in the plane, then I gripped onto the chair arms as the plane descended and the flight attendant's safety instructions played through my mind. It felt like the bottom was dropping out of my world. Everything about life was changing. The sins I committed ever since my first reception of the Holy Communion continued to appear.  I thought it was dangerous parachuting out of a plane, so I decided to jump out without parachute.

After falling on the tiles in my bedroom, I did not think much about the fall, but my body felt the coldness of the tiles. The sound it produced might be barely perceptible, that I could not even hear it. I felt pains in my head and then ventured to open my eyes a little wider, and a moment afterwards, a sight met my gaze which stirred my soul to its very self. I opened my eyes and I saw again the dear woman with whom I have prayed to confess to.

It was broad daylight by this time, and such of the familiar features of my room as I could see without stirring my head made me to think of a second before my death. It would be like fifty two years which I have lived. On the other side of the room, was the large altar where my wife prays. I went to the altar, after praying with them, I took an oath in my experience, never shall I go back to my life style again.
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