JUNE 27, 2015, 7:15 AM.

THE DAY I DIED

"THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH IS AN INSTANT"

JAIME ALVAREZ

It was a beautiful Saturday morning and as usual I was up bright and early. By 6: am, I had already prepared our morning coffee and was now busy in my garden tending to my tomato and chili plants. My daughter Elena, my wife, and I have an almost sacred tradition of having coffee together every morning. I love our ritual.

Saturday's are special because Elena doesn't have to work. Who could have known that this particular Saturday would change our lives forever. Elena is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist with the Palm Springs Unified School District's Mental Health. I was especially excited that morning to share with Elena a high school picture of my varsity baseball team that I had posted on Facebook the night before. The resemblance between her son, Victor, and myself when I was in school was striking. I headed to my bedroom asking Elena to follow me. I wanted to retrieve the posted photograph on Facebook. The wonderful aroma of my delicious cup of coffee filled the air. I showed my daughter a team picture of my varsity baseball team. I was kneeling in the front row of the photograph. The year was 1967 and I was only seventeen years old. My daughter said, "Wow! Victor does look a lot like you, dad, when you were young."

Elena left the room and started talking with her mother in the kitchen, which is next to our living room. I stayed sitting on my chair, with a smile on my face, and a warm feeling of what a truly blessed man I was. That was the last memory I had. My life came to an abrupt and unexpected end.

Have you ever wondered how your loved ones would react if you died? I'm amazed and intrigued that I have been given privilege to know the answer.

I have cried many tears of gratitude when reading my wife's and daughter's accounts of the day I died. It was my loved ones who really suffered witnessing me drop dead in front of them. I went to the most peaceful and serene place that is unimaginable, unless you have been there yourself, but of course that would mean you would have to die in order to know.

Now I have to defer to the people that were eye witnesses as to what ensued next. I was gone, no longer conscious of my earthly condition.

Written by Elena Labastida Jaime's 3rd born daughter

The morning of Saturday, June 7, 2015, started out like every other morning. I decided to slowly make my way over to my parent's home for coffee. We have a priceless tradition of having coffee together every morning. I wanted to give my father more time to water his garden because it was going to be a hot day! As I perked my husband's decaffeinated coffee, I could see my father watering his garden outside my kitchen window. I walked over to my parent's home I was pleasantly surprised and happy that my mother would be join us for coffee. She usually sleeps a little later than my father and I. I greeted my mother with a warm embrace and kiss.

My father was excited to show me a picture he posted on his Facebook page. The picture was one of his El Monte high school baseball team. He motioned me to come over to the computer in his room and demonstrated the picture to me. He commented on how much Victor, my son, looked like him in the picture.

We sat down to enjoy our coffee! My mother and I on the couch and my father sat in front of us on an odd uncomfortable small Victorian chair that doesn't have any arms. Initially, I had disdain for that chair, but in retrospect that chair benefited my father greatly. My mother and I were conversing over my grandmother's care. When I saw through the corner of my eye, my father's head tilt to the right, as if he was joking around with us like he likes to do. In the second it took me to look over at my father, he slumped out of his chair and fell on the floor. My mother let out a spine chilling scream! I grabbed my mother's cell phone, dialed 911, and tossed it to her and gave her the instruction loudly, "Call 911." I kneeled next to my father, who was now curled on his right side and rolled him onto his back. I was expecting to see my father in and out of consciousness.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw! My father looked contorted and was a purplish red coloring. I knew my father was dead ... In that moment I felt sheer panic and fear. The fear I felt was twofold because I knew every minute counted before my father's organs and brain would begin to die from lack of oxygen and blood flow. But, I didn't have any formal CPR training. Jehovah, my God was with me and infusing me with the courage I needed to perform CPR immediately. My fear turned to anger! I thought, "Not like this, not like this!" I came to the quick realization that if my father was going to die, I was going to do everything I could to give him a fighting chance to live.

My mother's screams continued and at one point I thought she was going to faint. At that moment, my uncle Reuben, pulled up and my mother ran outside screaming, "Call 911! He's having a heart attack." My husband was in the laundry room of our home, which is adjacent to my parent's house and heard my mother's frantic words. My husband ran over to my parents and I recall seeing the silhouette in the front window. I felt a sense of relief knowing he was there. I looked up at him and said, "He's not breathing! Take over with chest compressions!"

I frantically asked my mother if she called 911. She said she had not made contact and was still waiting on hold. I took the phone and waited. What seemed like an eternity for the 911 operator to respond and asked her questions. I repeatedly pleaded "please send someone, my father is not breathing." I handed my mother the phone and ran back to help my husband, who was still providing CPR, to my father.

My mother called my sister's Leticia and Marisela, to inform them of what was happening. She put my eldest sister, Leticia on speaker and she gave a CPR instructions. My sister, Leticia, is a registered nurse. "30 compressions to every two breaths", she instructed.

My husband provided quality CPR to my father and I could see his color returning to his face. I was giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation and I could see my father's belly, bloating, because I was blowing too hard and filling his stomach with air. I thought, "I am going to blow his lungs out, but what does it matter if he's going to die."

In between CPR and mouth-to-mouth, I was slapping my father telling him, "Fight dad!" I knew my father could hear me because the auditory sense is the last to go. CPR is grueling and professionals administer it for approximate two minutes because of the physical demand. My uncle Reuben was standing in front of us at the entrance of the house, he appeared somewhat paralyzed and in shock. But my uncle, Reuben, courageously provided chest compressions until the paramedics...