My Shared Death Experience

It’s been a little over a month since my dog Tink passed away, and I still don’t have the right words to describe how much I miss her.

She was with me for thirteen years—more than a third of my life. A constant. A companion. A best friend. Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. We had to make the decision to put her down due to an aggressive, incredibly painful cancer that moved far too fast. It all happened so quickly.

That day, I sat beside her while the vet administered the injection. Tink was sedated and sleeping peacefully, and I was gently petting her, waiting for her heart to stop. I whispered a quiet request—almost absentmindedly. I asked a relative of mine who had passed away to make sure Tink didn’t cross over alone. I didn’t expect anything to happen. I wasn’t looking for signs or spiritual validation.

But something happened anyway.

In that quiet, sterile room, I saw something. With my actual eyes. Not in my imagination. The room didn’t disappear, but it felt like it expanded—or shifted. About fifteen feet away, even though the physical wall was much closer, a tunnel of bluish-white light opened up. It wasn’t vague or faint. It was real. Tangible. A glowing, soft light that filled part of the room, though it felt like it came from somewhere else entirely.

And there she was. Tink. She looked younger—healthier—trotting toward the light with her tail swaying and her body light. And beside her walked my relative. I saw only their backs, but I knew it was them.

They didn’t turn around. They didn’t say anything. They just walked side by side into the light.

And then the light vanished. Instantly.

The moment it disappeared, the vet—who hadn’t seen any of it—gently said, “Okay, she’s gone.”

And I just sat there. Petting my dog’s body, tears running down my face, thinking to myself:

What just happened?

Where did she go?

For weeks, I kept that experience mostly to myself. It shook something deep in me. Even though I’ve always been spiritually open and even work as a medium, I’m still skeptical by nature. I question everything. I doubt everything. It’s how I stay grounded.

But nothing could explain what I saw that day.

Recently, I took another one of our dogs to the vet—same place, same doctor. I asked her if she’d ever heard of anything like what I experienced. Her expression changed instantly. She leaned in and wanted to hear everything. Then she told me she’s had multiple clients over the years describe similar things.

They’re called shared death experiences.

Apparently, it’s not unheard of for someone at the bedside—of a human or an animal—to see a light, feel the presence of others, or witness the soul leaving the body. These stories are rarely talked about, but when they happen, they change everything. Because they don’t feel imaginary. They feel truer than the world we think we know.

And that’s what I’m still grappling with.

I’ve seen death before. I’ve been around loss. But what happened with Tink was different. I wasn’t reaching for a sign. I wasn’t hoping for a miracle. I was just there, doing the hardest thing you can do—saying goodbye.

And somehow, I was shown a glimpse of something beyond goodbye.

I still don’t know where she went (let’s be honest, know one REALLY knows anything about the other side). But I saw her leave. And I saw that she didn’t leave alone.

As a medium I can still hold that connection with her, but it isn’t the same. I am in a physical form, and she is not. I’m grateful that I was able to see that she went somewhere, but I sure would like to know with certainty where that “somewhere” is. Despite what many believe, psychics and mediums don’t know all of the secrets of the universe. I’m stumbling around in this world just like you are (except I talk to dead people so that makes my experience a little weird; but regardless, I’m trying to figure out the answers to the big questions too).

If you have had a shared death experience or near death experience I would love to hear your story.