I Lost My Sight, But This Morning, Miraculously, I Could See Again.

I Lost My Sight, But This Morning, Miraculously, I Could See Again. I Wanted To Tell My Parents The Good News

I Lost My Sight, But This Morning, Miraculously, I Could See Again. I Wanted To Tell My Parents The Good News

Part - 3 (end)

Now he was surrounded by a bright light, and his eyes no longer held the discomfort I had noticed before. They were kind and protective, filled with a goodness that seemed infinite. “You can’t go with them, Ella,” he said, approaching me and extending his hand. “It’s not your time.” “Who... who are they?” I asked, looking at the figures who now seemed even more distant and threatening. “They aren’t your parents,” Noah replied, his voice firm and reassuring. “They are beings who came to take you, but you don’t belong to them yet. You have so much to do, so many people who need you.” I looked at him, trying to understand. Suddenly, everything started to make sense. The strange house, the imposters, the constant feeling of danger. I was caught between life and death, and these beings wanted to take me away. Noah was my protector, my guardian. He was there to ensure I wouldn’t give up. “But how?” I began to ask, but Noah just smiled and wrapped me in a gentle embrace. “Trust me, Ella. It’s time for you to wake up.” And with those words, the light around us intensified until everything vanished in a blinding flash.

When I opened my eyes again, I felt a heaviness in my lungs, as if I was breathing for the first time in years. I blinked a few times, adjusting my vision to the light in the room, and realized I was lying in a hospital bed. Around me, machines beeped softly, and I heard low voices and whispers. I turned my head slowly and saw familiar faces: my father, my mother, and Noah. They were there, but now they seemed so different from how I had seen them in that strange place. My mother had tears in her eyes, and my father held her hand tightly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Ella,” my mother whispered, and then her tears flowed freely. “She woke up! It’s a miracle!” I heard my father say, his voice choked with emotion. Noah was beside them, but not as I had seen him before. Now, he was my husband, the man I loved and trusted. His eyes were filled with tears, and when our eyes met, he smiled a smile so full of love that it nearly broke my heart. That was when I understood. All that time, I had been in a coma. The car accident had left me in a state between life and death, and what I experienced was a near-death experience. The beings who looked like my parents were forces that wanted to take me, but Noah, or a representation of something greater, saved me. He was my guardian angel, the one who had fought for me to have another chance at life.

Through her tears, my mother explained that the doctors had already lost hope. They had authorized the disconnection of the machines that were keeping me alive, but somehow, at that exact moment, I came back. They said it was a miracle, and I knew deep down in my heart that it truly was. After that, nothing was the same. I began to believe that there was something greater, something divine, watching over me. I started seeking answers in faith, in spirituality, because I knew that experience had been more than just a dream. It was a sign, a gift, the chance to start over. Today, I am grateful every day for being alive. Waking up from the coma and seeing my family by my side felt like being reborn, and I will never forget the light, the gentle whispers of Noah, telling me that it wasn’t my time yet.

After waking up from that coma, my life changed completely. I became a different person, someone who had a new appreciation for life and what it means to be alive. That experience wasn’t just a strange dream or a delirium caused by the coma. It was something much deeper, something spiritual that connected me to something beyond human understanding. It didn’t take me long to realize that I needed to share what I had experienced. Today, I dedicate a large part of my time to giving talks in churches and community centers. I share my story with those who need a reason to believe, to find hope. I stand at the pulpit and see attentive faces, some skeptical, others already with tears in their eyes before I even begin to speak. And I always start the same way: “I went to a place where light and darkness coexisted. I stood between life and death, and somehow, someone was there to bring me back.” I talk about the beings I encountered, who looked like my parents but were not. I talk about the fear I felt, the confusion, and about the one who saved me—Noah, or at least a part of him, a representation of a guardian angel. Whenever I reach that part, I feel a tightness in my chest. I can’t explain exactly who or what Noah was in that moment, but what I know is that without him, I wouldn’t be here today.

My family still gets emotional every time I tell this story. I remember the first time I shared everything with them after waking up. My mother cried so much she could barely speak, while my father stood beside her, his eyes filled with tears. They told me that to them, it was practically impossible to believe I had survived that accident. When I was taken to the hospital, the doctors had no hope. The injuries were too severe, and to make matters worse, right after the surgery, I fell into a deep coma. It was at that moment that I lost my sight, not physically, but because I was trapped in a limbo state, a battle for my soul. The loss of sight, the dark and confusing environment I experienced in that dream, was a representation of the vulnerable state I was in, caught between the world of the living and the dead. When I talk about the beings trying to take me away, my mother always cries. She tells me that during the time I was in a coma, there were moments when it seemed like I was slipping away, as if my body was giving up. And it was during those moments that Noah, my real husband, was more present than ever, holding my hand, praying beside me, talking to me, even though I couldn’t respond. Today, he is still my protector, and now I see him not just as the man I love, but as someone who, in some way, channeled that divine force that brought me back. It doesn’t matter what you call it—guardian angel, miracle, faith. I know I was saved by something greater than all of us, and I am grateful every single day. When I wake up in the morning, I take a deep breath and feel the joy of being alive. I see the colors of the sunrise, hear the birds singing, and feel a gratitude that I had never experienced before. Life is precious, and now I see every small moment as a gift.

At my last talk, a young woman approached me afterward. She had tears in her eyes and told me she had lost hope in life, that she felt there was no reason to go on. After hearing my story, she found a new meaning. She said that if I could come back from something so devastating, then maybe she could find the strength to move forward too. When I hugged her, I felt that I was doing the right thing. My experience was not in vain. I was here to help others see the light, even when everything seemed shrouded in shadows. And whoever that guardian angel was, whether it was Noah, his essence, or something that took his form to save me, I am eternally grateful. I know it wasn’t my time, and now I live each day as an opportunity to honor the gift I received. My family fully supports me on this journey. They are part of my new life, a life full of purpose. And every time I remember their scared faces at the hospital when they thought they would lose me, and the indescribable joy I felt waking up and seeing them all by my side, I know I am here for a reason. Today, we are closer than ever, and every hug, every smile carries a greater weight, a certainty that miracles are real and that faith can move mountains. Yes, the doctors said it was a miracle, and I believe it.