It’s an Age-Old Question Without an Answer — Is There Life After Death?

Saving my life was her choice

“I’ve never seen a reading quite like this.”

Moments before, the tarot reader had casually flipped over the last card. Now his frown lines were out in full force. I caught my breath and swallowed hard. What does that mean?

He looked up at me, then peered back at the six cards. Was he trying to change them using the power of his mind? Long seconds dragged by before he spoke again, “I think, perhaps, you should reshuffle the cards.”

He gathered the cards and passed the deck back to me. After a quick shuffle, I returned them. He stacked six piles, and I once again chose a card from each stack. As he flipped the cards over one by one, he smiled, satisfied with the selection of cards arrayed before him until the last card. His frown lines returned, deep crevices lining his forehead.

I took in a deep breath all the way to my belly, then slowly released it. It was the same card that caused him consternation before. A woman sitting in bed, her face in her hands like she was weeping.

His hand raised to his chin. The classic thinker pose. His nostrils flared as he considered the card. Then without a word, he turned his head to the other side of the mat where he’d placed the other cards. But I wasn't here for those cards. I was here to learn more about the weeping woman.

The tarot reader explained the first five cards: love, career, the future, health, and happiness. After each positive statement, he looked at me for affirmation. I gave it readily. Everything was in order. The cards accurately reflected my life. Finally, he turned his gaze back to the last card sitting alone off to the side of the mat. I held my breath as he considered the card.

He tapped the card gingerly with his index finger. “Has there been a death in the family?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“Any death close to you?”

“No.”

“Someone close to you who is battling with their health?”

I shook my head.

He glanced over to the other five cards, “Given the positivity and joy in the reading to date, this seems like a silly question, a contradiction of sorts. But I don't have any questions left to ask. Are you worried about something? Anxious at all?”

“No, and no,” I replied with a smile. My breath quickened along with my heartbeat. I was only one thing. Curious.

I am the ultimate curious cat. I like to know things. I might not ever act on them, but I have a burning desire to know. The idea of life after death fascinates me, perhaps because it’s a question that can never be fully answered.

It was pure curiosity that led me to this place, this moment.

Once again, the physic went over the five cards, and I confirmed the reading. My relationship was solid, and my health had never been better. I had just won my first award in my job as a school librarian. Financially everything was stable. Life was good. In fact, life was beyond good. Life was sweet. Each breath carried the promise of another.

He shook his head and said, “This makes no sense. Given this reading, backed by what you’ve said, the Nine of Swords has no place here. I don’t understand.”

“Bear with me a moment. I’m going to try an experiment.”

He gathered the deck together once more, shuffled it, then withdrew a card. It was the same picture. The Nine of Swords. The weeping woman.

He sighed. Closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he said, “I’ve been getting a message throughout this reading. Over and over. A woman’s voice. She tells me, It’s okay. This is how it was always meant to be. He taps the card with the weeping woman, “I feel somehow that this is her message for you. But who she is — ” his voice trailed off.

His chin resting once again on his thumb and forefinger, he confessed, “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’ve never had a reading like this. I don't understand it, and I can't seem to interpret it.” He stroked his chin, “So, I have to ask, does it mean anything to you?”

I nodded. This strange reading made perfect sense to me. It was exactly what I'd come for. Another piece in the puzzle. One more proof that there was indeed something after death. Perhaps it was time to let the poor man out of his misery.

“Two years ago, I had a double lung transplant,” I said.

His jaw dropped open, and his eyes lit up. “Oh, I see.” His eyes flicked back down to the card. “Of course. Now it makes sense.”

He looks back at me and nods, “These cards reflect a reading for two people.”

From the moment I woke up with these perfect “new” lungs, I’ve known things. Felt things. Nothing could shake my belief that my donor was also female. She was older than me, with at least two children. They were things that I couldn't know, and yet I knew bone deep that they were true. My personality has undergone a subtle shift, like a part of my donor imprinted herself onto me.

I searched until I knew my donor's name. A name that once found immediately resonated with me.

Five years after that tarot reading, a phone call with my donor’s husband sated some of my curiosity. I will never know this stranger who saved my life, although we are forever connected. Now thanks to her husband’s candid nature, I knew a little of her. It was enough.

Toward the end of the conversation, her husband told me, “We signed the organ register about ten years before. It was something she wanted, to be able to help others.”

I took a deep breath in. This was information I needed to hear. Her choice. Saving my life had been her choice.

“She wasn't meant to be here. We were going to England.” His voice hitched for a moment, and I held my breath. Waiting until he was ready to continue. “She pulled out at the last minute. Changed her mind, and stayed home. And then …” his voice trailed off.

We both knew what happened next. She died, became an organ donor, and saved my life.

I took a deep breath in. Her lungs, our lungs, my lungs.

I understood the message from the tarot reader now.

This was how it was always meant to be.