My Profound Experience in Maui
Eric, I needed to discover the truth for myself. I scheduled appointments with the Maui police and the coroner, who handled your case after your passing. I felt compelled to meet with them and ask some questions; otherwise, I might not have gathered the courage to do so.
I booked a flight to Maui for December and eagerly anticipated my trip for three months before my departure. To prepare spiritually for what I would discover in Maui, I dedicated myself to reading my scriptures more diligently and praying regularly. I rented a condo nearby and spent almost a week there before my meetings. You know me—I needed time to pace the floor and worry about everything. I stayed in the condo, only venturing out for one meal a day and a glimpse of the sunsets over the ocean.
Oh, and I forgot: Linda and Kevin Bennett were there, so I met them one night for dinner. I treasure my friendship with Linda. She kept me sane while I endured the hell I was forced to endure growing up. She is my oldest friend, and I will always love her. Sadly, Jami died so early in life, or I'd still be in touch with her, too.
My first meeting was with the police. Meeting the officer who helped me out of the sand and onto the path to the ambulance was so nice of him. I didn't remember what he looked like until I saw him again. He gave me a hug and asked how I'd been doing. Typically, people just say, "I'm fine," but I wasn't fine or good; I've been driving myself crazy since your death. I asked the police if they knew the people who were witnesses. They said they keep those names confidential and asked why I wanted them. I really didn't have a solid reason to want their names. It was just making small talk, I guess. I forgot to bring the notebook. I'd been writing my questions for the police, and I freaking forgot to take it in with me. I didn't have many questions for them; I just wanted to thank them for their help. They confirmed to me what was on the death certificate: you drowned.
The next day, I met with the two coroners who performed your autopsy. I wanted to know if they knew you were gone before the EMTs worked on you for 45 minutes, then announced you dead at exactly 12:45. They told me more than likely you were gone before they pulled you out of the water. My eyes began to tear up, and they knew this would be a complicated conversation for me. From that point on, they controlled the narrative. I was told that none of your organs were inflamed or had new damage, including your heart. My own heart began pumping hard, and I thought I was going to throw up. I kept shaking my head no, as they continued, I was in a full-on ugly cry just remembering what I could of that awful day.
For months, I've been having these nightmares about your last few minutes of life and how scared you must have been. I've felt guilty, asking myself if I had paid better attention, if I could have saved you. I learned from these men that you died a dry drowning. "I don't know what that is," they told me. Most people don't, and that's okay. Dry drowning is found mainly in toddlers learning how to swim. They take in too much air and hold it in their lungs. They usually don't show signs of anything being wrong, but do not wake up the next morning. He continued by saying that in Hawaii, when adults drown and there is no water in their lungs, the first thing they want to know is if this person has had heart issues. Maybe that is why the EMTs asked me while they were working on you if you had ever had heart issues. The conclusion was that you were in rough waters and got scared or panicked, then maybe fainted, and that is when you left me. They also said they were sure you felt no pain. I left there with a clearer understanding, and things began to make sense. They were so patient and kind that I was grateful to have received the answers I needed from them.
On my last day in Maui, I woke up, knelt to pray, and asked Heavenly Father to give me strength again. I drove to Black Rock Beach and sat in the car, listening for answers, but nothing came. I brought something to sit on and my journal to remember everything if anything came to me. As I walked the path you and I had held hands walking to the beach only ten months before, I could feel the pain beginning to resurface. I stopped momentarily, where Jori and I sat, remembering you hugging me and our last kiss. Then you said, "I love you. I'll see you soon." I wondered why you used that phrase; you'd never said that to me before. I've always said, "See you soon," when a loved one died, but it was weird to hear you say the exact phrase. As you and Dwight walked towards the water, Jori snapped a picture of the two of you walking. Little did I know that would be the last picture of you alive. I put on my headphones and sat in the shade, listening to Hilary Weeks' music. Not long after, two women ran down the beach screaming my name and Jori's. I knew at that very moment it was you, something had happened to you! I remember running and falling in the sand. I could not get to you fast enough.
That is when my life changed forever. I watched as you were pulled out of the water; you were blue, and I knew you were gone. I sat next to you and watched as they tried to revive you. When they called it, I screamed, "No, please no, don't leave me." That's when the police officer came and helped me up and into the ambulance. It was all coming back to me. I was living it all over again, only with a different perspective.
I continued down the beach to sit where you left this life. Something amazing, only God could do, happened next. I wrote this in my journal as I sat and tried to recall everything that had happened.
I just want the Lord to help me escape this storm I can't seem to get away from. People ask what they can do to help. I wish I knew what to tell them. I want to be brave and keep moving forward, but feel alone. I'm barely hanging on. It's been almost ten months since I lost my favorite person, my sweet husband, in this very spot where I sit now. I pray every morning and night for the Lord to help me keep going, trying to appear strong; yet, I still sometimes question why this happened, why you? I don't think I've met anyone who loved life more than you. I was supposed to go first. As I sit here, I hear families enjoying each other, lovers walking hand in hand down the beach, trying to comprehend all this. I can feel Eric guiding me and the spirit telling me what to do and how to march on, but I'm scared.
I think about our life together as the waves come in and out. Like the waves, some things pull us out to sea, but we always continue to have faith and look to our Heavenly Father. He always pulled us back to shore safely and we grew increasingly more in love. He is always there. We have to ask him for help sometimes, but we have to. Eric went into those waves and was brought back to shore so that his spirit could be released back to his home, just as Heavenly Father had planned. He knew that day when Eric said, "See you soon," I'd need that to help me through until I see you again. February 21st, 2024, was the day planned for you to go home to your mom and dad.
As I stared at the waves coming in and out, it suddenly became quiet. I could feel Him with me, the spirit was strong, and I was confused, until I saw you sitting beside me. Was this real? You were so young and perfect in every way. You said, "Hello, sweetheart."
You had the biggest smile on your face, I couldn't touch you, but I could see and hear you. It was only you and me on the beach at that moment. I was sure it was another dream, like I dreamed about your mom when she died, and when I was going through my own battle with cancer, she would visit me often. No, this was real. I was experiencing something. You softly said, "Don't cry, I am so happy. I'm with mom and dad." I began to ask questions, some of which you couldn't answer, but one you did that was so important for me and the kids to know was, "Were you scared? Did you have pain?" You told me there's nothing negative about where you live, nothing at all. Then you confirmed that you did not die in pain and that you are no longer scared, like you were here on earth. It's beautiful where you are, and that God is real. You told me you watched me on the beach after your spirit left your body, and that you could see the fear and pain I was feeling, but could do nothing about it. You told me to be happy and to continue attending the Temple. Which is something I've struggled with doing since you've been gone. You promised me that the covenants we made are sacred, and you always wanted me to remember them. Especially on the hard days when a tear or two you knew would come.
We talked about family, and you reassured me that no matter what decisions our children make, you and I did our best, and that we should stop worrying about that. You said it's something too many of us, especially mothers, worry about. You reassured me that Jesus Christ lives and loves all of God's children. When you said, "Believe me, Heavenly Father is proud of you." You reminded me of the strength I've had over the years. One of the things you said I will always keep close to my heart is this; I knew before I came to earth that I would face challenges but if I stayed close to the Lord He would bless me through all of it and I would grow into the woman he designed me to be because of those trials.
You told me to give Him my heart and that He only sees my beauty from within. I cried, as I thought about how many times you told me how beautiful I was, even after my facial paralysis. I never believed you because I could look in the mirror and see what I look like, but I will never doubt again that our Heavenly Father doesn't see those scars. Thank you for that. You knew I needed to hear it. You whispered to me one last time, "You are beautiful." I turned my head, embarrassed by my tears, as the sounds of the families on the beach and the waves crashing against the shore grew louder. You were gone. I looked at my phone, and it had been four hours. I knew Jesus escorted you to me, knowing I had prepared myself spiritually, then allowed you to sit with me and answer my questions.
You are now doing God's work, serving as a salesman of the Gospel as you continue to be a missionary. I am so proud of you. I will be with you again, I promise to keep those covenants you and I made all those years ago. My love for you is eternal, sacred, and deeply profound. Now it's time to be the best I can be, to serve others, and to prepare to see you again. You know you will always be in my heart. This isn't goodbye. I'll see you soon.
Love,
Monya
