Words from Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

from the Epilogue to QUEST: The Life of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, acclaimed author of ON DEATH AND DYING

When Derek Gill approached me, I was ready at last to share this life story, because my work in the last few years has led me not only to a greater understanding of life and death but to a deeper realization of the significance of our early years.  Research in the process of time, in death itself, and especially in life after death, has revealed insights that are very important in the bringing up of children, for the way in  which we are going to raise our next generations.

This book becomes important only when we have a full understanding of the purpose of life, the significance of our relationships, and the awareness of the extraordinary guidance and help that we receive from an invisible world which very few people perceive.  We  must also realize the fact that in our lives there are no coincidences.  Even the parents we choose do not become ours by coincidence.  They, and our siblings, our teachers, the friends who share parts of our life, are all determined by our own choices and are part of the overall plan that directs our life--a plan  that will reveal itself only at the end, at that final transition into another existence:  that moment we call death.

I believe this book will be seen as even more significant when the story of my later years, and of our research into life after death, is published in the future, and it is seen why that which happened  to me had to happen.  It will become obvious why I had to be born a triplet...had to experience a total lack of individual identity in a grownup world that was unable to differentiate between my sister and myself.  This early loneliness and, at times, self-chosen  isolation were preparation for the years to come.  I had to find my love objects in birds and animals, in meadows and among hills and trees and wildflowers rather than among individuals.  I had to leave home before I was sixteen, had to work through years of hardship and physical deprivation.  Thereby I was blessed with experiences  I would never otherwise have had.  Those years in the French part of Switzerland, inPoland, France, Germany, Belgium and Italy were gifts of awareness, gifts of sharing with other human beings who had survived the war but lost many loved ones under the most tragic of  circumstances.  By viewing the gas chambers, the concentration camps, the train  filled with the baby shoes of murdered children in Maidanek, by talking with the Jewish girl who had lived through  the nightmare of  seeing her family march to their deaths, I learned that it is our  choice, our own personal choice, whether we want to continue living as victims of resentment, negativity, the need for revenge; or whether we elect to leave the negativity behind and view such tragedies as the windstorms of life which  can both strengthen us and help us to grow.  Such experiences can help others as well, leaving them stronger and more polished and more beautiful, like a rock that has gone through the tumbler.... We must have the courage and honesty to look within ourselves, to identify our fears, greed, guilt and shame, whatever prevents us from using our energy positively.  If we are able to follow our own intuition and not be concerned about what others may say or think about us; if we listen to our inner voice and to our fellow human being who is suffering; if we share our love without expectation of reward, we will realize that each of us is student as well as teacher...and our rewards will be manifold and come when we least expect them.

My destiny had to be the United States, where I was free to pursue  my own work, my own research and my own form of teaching, none ofwhich would have been possible in any other nation in this world.

Hamilton - 1945-1949

In June every four years at the Annual Conference of the Methodist Church, ministers receive a new appointment by the presiding Bishop and families have to up and move to the new city or town where the church is located. When I was born in March of 1945, my parents were living in the little town of Covington--only 5.7 square miles in total land area. Covington is located in Alleghany County in the far western part of the State, a 45 minute drive to Roanoke's Jefferson Memorial Hospital where I was born and not too far from the Virginia/West Virginia line and in close proximity to The Homestead in Bath County and The Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, two fancy places lawyers like to brag about going for retreats. I was pleased to read that Covington's current mayor is not only female but the first African-American mayor of the town. Her name is Stephanie Ross Clark.



The summer of 1945, the Methodist Bishop sent my father to pastor the Methodist churches in Purcellville and Hamilton and that's where I spent the first 4 years of my life.  In doing some research,   I was surprised to find Hamilton and Purcellville on the state map very close together geographically and situated in the very northeastern tip of the state in Loudoun County.  Hamilton, once occupied by several Native American tribes, is only 40 miles west of Washington, D.C. and if you drive 12 miles southeast, you'll be in the town of Middleburg, which is horse country.  European settlers arrived there in the 1730s, I guess that's when the natives had to leave. 


The few memories I have of Hamilton are of the big white parsonage we lived in, the porch, the expansive front lawn that provided plenty of room to run and play, and a hammock tied between two trees in the side yard, perfect for afternoon naps.  I loved to feel the way the hammock would sway back and forth in the gentle breeze on warm summer days.  In exploring this new world one day I came upon a large dog who I probably tried to pet.  Instead he bit me, leaving a scar on my left hand just below my  thumb.  


When I was grown, I found 2 pictures taken of me in Hamilton--in one I am a toddler sitting alone in the sliding green and white rocker on the front porch and frowning at whoever is taking my picture.  In another, I am dressed in an Easter bonnet and suit, standing alone in the  front yard.  I wasn't smiling  then either.  I learned in Hamilton that the world was not a safe place -- dogs could bite.   Even though I had a brother who was 5 years older than me, I have no memories of him in Hamilton.  I have saved a photo of him laughing naked in a bathtub outside in the yard.