A Glimpse Beyond: My Dad’s Final Gift

Death is part of life, yet at 46, I’d never lost an immediate family member. That changed in 1994, when my father’s battle with cancer came to a peaceful end—but not before something extraordinary happened.

In 1992, our family of seven relocated to Connecticut. Not long after, Dad received his diagnosis. Two years later, in August of 1994, we traveled to Michigan for a vacation—and, as it turned out, a final reunion. I’m so thankful we were all together.

During that visit, my 16-year-old daughter, Dena, shared something deeply moving with her grandfather:
“Jesus is real. And Jesus loves you.” She didn’t know it at the time, but those words would echo powerfully just days later.

Midway through our stay, Dad fell into a coma. His eyes were open but unmoving. We said what we thought were our final goodbyes and left the hospital fully expecting the phone to ring during the night. It didn’t.

When we returned the next morning, Dad was sitting up, eating lunch, and beaming with energy. The nurses were astonished. A longtime friend had visited him earlier, and they’d shared a joyful reunion. I was in awe and asked him what he remembered.

His answer changed everything.

“I saw a wonderful, loving world! It’s a beautiful place, Freddy, beyond description, and I can’t wait to return.”
“I was drawn into a beautiful and warm bright light. In the warmth of that light, all of my pain slipped away and I was completely immersed in goodness and love.”

Dad wasn’t a religious man outwardly. But he was honest and sincere—so I took his words to heart. He didn’t say he saw Jesus, but his description of peace, light, and love was a glimpse of something greater—a transcendent moment that gave him joy and gave us comfort.

He passed just days later, after we had returned home. I received the call as we were nearly back in Connecticut. And though it was the first great loss of my life, I wasn’t overwhelmed by grief.

Instead, I felt peace.

If he had died two weeks earlier, I would’ve missed Dena’s message of faith, his incredible near-death experience, and the chance to witness his calm, joyful preparation for what lies beyond.

What could’ve been a moment of anguish became a divine gift.
A gift of peace.
A gift of hope.
A glimpse into eternity.

And for that, I will be forever grateful.