FALLEN CATHOLIC:

MY SEARCH FOR THE REAL JESUS

(continued)

Chapter 14: Fear of Death

You know, when I think about death, real death, the total end of my life, the last cogent thought, I really have no fear of passing into oblivion. In fact, in some ways, I look forward to the peace it will bring me. But at night, when I am in that half waking, half sleeping surrealistic world between sanity and chaos, I often wake with a start. I sit up in bed or scream out in my sleep like a child. Sometimes I start moaning and crying. It is a very disturbing thing for my wife. She knows to wake me. When my brain is half asleep, my animal fear of death seizes me like a vice. There is no reasonable discourse...no careful analysis of the situation. In those moments, those horrible nightmares, I am on the verge of death. I am at the precipice of the abyss.

My wife has told me that she usually wakes up a few seconds before I do and that she knows I am having a nightmare before I start to moan. That connection between us, that unspoken communication tells me that there is something deeper in life than meets the eye. We have all heard stories about husbands dying a week or a month after their wives. We have all had premonitions about the future that prove to be accurate. And there are books everywhere touting the evidence of ghostly entities among us.

I don't believe it is possible to go to your death suddenly without tremendous fear. It just doesn't seem possible to me. As logical as we are about death, our animal lower brain takes over when it senses that its survival is threatened. Yet somehow, people do face death calmly and with acceptance. Are they more brave than the rest of us? Are they more sure of their destiny?

I have had a few close calls with death myself. In both cases, I remained calm and decided not to panic. I remembered that survival often depends on keeping one's wits. I decided that I would be the one taking charge, leading people to safety. It happened on a plane over Nashville during the Senate race of 1976.

We were on a vintage DC3, a tail dragger. It was one of the most reliable aircraft from the early 50s. But this plane was a relic that had passed its usefulness. As we lifted off the runway and began to climb, black smoke stared billowing out of the starboard engine. The pilot accidentally hit the intercom as he talked to the ground about his mayday. We could hear him argue with the tower over whether he should feather the crippled engine as he struggled to gain altitude.

We were watching out the window as it happened. The seats faced each other and we looked at each other as if to say, “This is it!” The pilot rolled the aircraft steeply to starboard and the ground suddenly seemed way too close. We all wondered if we would make it back around to land. I looked at one of the young ladies across from me and I smiled. Then I said, “Here we go!”

Everyone in our little group laughed. It broke the tension and we all realized that we would survive. But for that little moment...that small instant...we were staring directly into the face of death.

Well, unfortunately, we all died in a horrible crash that day. And that's the end of my story.