Watch Insight’s episode Near Death Moments, where guests share their close brush with death and how it’s shaped their view on life, on
Four years ago in between his cancer treatments, my beautiful husband, Edgar, suffered a fatal heart attack.
In our home, I witnessed his agonising last moments.

Nothing eases grief except time, but there was something that happened to me decades earlier that brought with it an understanding that shifted my perspective on death.

A woman and a man standing next to each other and smiling.

Elena and her late husband Edgar. Source: Supplied

The day that changed how I look at death

At 15 years old, I sustained critical injuries from a car accident.
I was the backseat passenger in a car that skidded off a dirt road and hit a tree.
There were fears that one of the tree’s branches would collapse on the car, so there was panic and an urgency to get out.
But I couldn’t move. I could hear the voices of the other passengers screaming at me to get out of the car.

I still don’t remember how I made it out of the car and onto the road. At this point, something inexplicable happened.

Everything went black. I remember hearing a comforting voice inside my head.
It told me to go and “find the cave on the side of the road”.
Without hesitation, I imagined myself walking for what seemed like hours, pain-free and calm, to this tranquil spot.
I retreated into the darkest part of the cave, curled up, and slept.
While sleeping, I dreamt of my mother and I going shopping.
Suddenly, I came to and felt the most excruciating pain.

I looked up, and people were surrounding me, looking down at me, asking me to do things. But I didn’t know where I was, who they were, or what they wanted me to do. Everyone I was travelling with was in varying states of injury and shock.

a young woman in a hospital gown holding onto an IV

Elena sustained serious injuries after her accident. Source: Supplied

The reality of my injuries was overshadowed by ‘deja vu’

Lying on my back, I was desperate to turn over, but I was pinned to the floor by a severe pain in my left shoulder.
After being rushed into emergency, the surgeon who operated on me told my parents that I had significant internal haemorrhaging caused by the seatbelt.
The seatbelt broke my ribs. My ribs perforated my stomach, liver, and spleen.
Without a seatbelt, I would have sustained head injuries, so despite what I had suffered, I was extremely fortunate.
Some weeks into my hospital stay, I was allowed out for a day trip.
My mother took me shopping, and I had an overwhelming sensation that I had lived this day already.
On the day of the car accident, I learned many things that defied my comprehension. There are things I still do not have the language to explain.

But since that day, I no longer fear death.

We can experience two realities simultaneously

I learned that we could experience two realities simultaneously, and that dying may look painful to onlookers but may not necessarily be the internal reality of the sufferer.
One evening, resting from treatment in our living room, Edgar turned to me and asked me to recount my near-death experience to him.
It was clear he was contemplating his own mortality.

I talked openly as he asked questions.

A couple playing board games on a table.

Elena and Edgar during the early years of their marriage. Source: Supplied

I told him my brain protected me at my most vulnerable. That somehow my mind transported me to a calm place where I experienced no pain.

I was so grateful to have had my near-death experience as it provided me with the words I needed to comfort my precious partner in life.
At 15, I was embarrassed to discuss my extraordinary experience of an alternate reality, sensing people would not understand.
I confided in my mother, but she tried to interpret it through a ‘supernatural’ lens, a label I found uncomfortable.

While I don’t attribute my near-death experience to otherworldly forces, the experience remains a mystery that I’m content to leave unsolved.

My near-death experience remains a mystery that I’m content to leave unsolved.

Elena Sabellico

Even now, I struggle to find the right words to describe it.
I hold onto the hope that my husband also underwent a similar experience.
That his brain protected him from the trauma by providing an escape route.
Indeed, I hope for this to be the common experience for us all in our journey towards the unknown.
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