This past week I went on an unexpected trip to Colorado to visit my beloved aunt Leda as she passed away from cancer. She had been admitted to hospice care as her lungs and body began to fail.

Over a year ago, my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer which had spread to her bones. 

Upon receiving news that her passing was near, I bought a pricy airline ticket on Sunday night for a Monday morning departure. I landed at the creeptastic illuminati airport in Denver and Ubered myself directly to the hospice. It was jarring to walk into the room and see my aunt in a withered and miserable state. It was in stark contrast to the poised and graceful demeanor that she always proudly and effortlessly embodied. Leda spent her life as a posh SoCal socialite and also played the social leader in our extended family. In the 90's, she assumed the role of coordinator/nexus for all of our large semi-monthly Italian family meals once our grandma began to fade and couldn't cook up her signature dishes like she used to.

After this week I have forgotten what aunt Leda originally looked like—the rate of change and body decomposition has been dramatic and she withered even further between Tuesday and her last moments on Friday. I have been rifling through old footage and media of my sweet aunt.

 Aunt Leda photographed three years ago, sandwiched between two of Alex's sisters. 

Aunt Leda photographed three years ago, sandwiched between two of Alex's sisters. 

This was such an impactful and eventful week that I could write a novel. You can tell that not only are veils thinning all around us, but veils of this consciousness hologram seem to especially thin near death or transitory events.

I could go on and on, but in this post I'll just stick to the metaphysical highlights that we had experienced this week:

The Paranormal "Whoosh" on Thursday Afternoon

 Alex's father pictured (with eyes closed) next to Aunt Leda on Main Street USA at Disneyland in Anaheim.

Alex's father pictured (with eyes closed) next to Aunt Leda on Main Street USA at Disneyland in Anaheim.

 Alex (right) joins his cousin (left) in teaching Aunt Leda the joys of Denver pot nine months ago. 

Alex (right) joins his cousin (left) in teaching Aunt Leda the joys of Denver pot nine months ago. 

My cousin, my father, and I returned to our rental home in order to eat and regroup. During this time, my Aunt's two sons took a shift sitting with my aunt at the hospice.

We three were standing in the kitchen eating Chinese take-out when my cousin and I experienced a fast whoosh and a quick crescendo of choral voices.

Somehow my dad didn't experience it.

I cannot convey how quickly this sensation came and went. It disappeared as soon as it arrived. I count this as one of the most intriguing metaphysical experiences I've ever had. My cousin was in tears and looked at me and said "so you felt that too???"

I asked my cousin if it seemed choral to her as well, and we both agreed that the voices weren't necessarily human (as in it didn't sound like male and female human voices in something like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir), but "choir" is somehow still the best descriptor for what we heard and felt. At that moment we ran to our phones to see if our aunt had passed or something. Nope, she was still alive. We aren't exactly sure who or what "whooshed" to us in such a grand manner.

We theorized that my deceased uncle (my cousin's father, and he was a brother to the aunt who is passing away) may have used this moment to make his presence known. Hopefully he was on standby to receive my aunt.

Telepathic Memory Transference on Thursday Afternoon

We returned to the hospice for another sitting with my aunt. We experienced a kerfuffle in which my aunt began having breathing issues and she wanted to get out of the bed and cough it out. She was delirious and was too weak to stand but damn, this woman still had some spunk and vigor in her and put up a good fight. I had to restrain her from the back while we called for emergency nurse support, lest she sever the catheter or fall onto the floor. Once my aunt became very medicated and returned to passing in and out of consciousness, she regained a regular (yet gurgly) breathing pattern.

I held her hand by her bedside as I attempted to match her breathing tempo. I was in a moment of trying to quietly meditate and connect with her on a non-verbal level. I felt compelled to mentally ask if we could transport ourselves to a pleasant memory involving breath. But I wasn't prepared for what happened next! I feel like I embodied my aunt in a very specific locale in a very specific time. I/we were standing outside the Casino on Catalina Island while some sort of event or soirée was occurring inside. It was just her (or just me? Just we? This is so confusing).

I could feel that I/we were wearing a blue dress with rocking *Murphy Brown-esque* shoulder pads. It must've been the late 80's. It was gorgeously twilight outside and I/we could see the ocean and the marina in Avalon. I/we had a cigarette in hand and—as I matched the tempo of breath with my aunt in the sterile hospice room—I could simultaneously taste the cigarette and feel/smell/taste the salty ocean air fill my lungs.

It was such a quiet "me" moment to which we transported ourselves. It was reflective and serene. It was so immersive and realistic. Looking back, I feel like we were three shards of consciousness inhabiting the same body at that specific moment: 80's Leda, 2018 sickly Leda, and her gay nephew (me) seemed to be inhabiting the same body at the same time experiencing the same pleasant memory.

Transition on Friday Afternoon

My aunt finally passed away. At 4:44 pm (not kidding), she reached her arms up over her head, looked upward, and mumbled something and quickly left her body. We wonder who she was talking to and what she said as she left her vessel.

This felt so cathartic to put in words—thank you for lending your time to read this. I'd love to know if others have experienced any sort of veil-thinning or other unusual events surrounding the passing of a loved one.