William (Billy) Lang III

In July of 1989, Billy's neck was broken, at the C5/6 level. After his accident, the next four months were spent in hospitals in New York and in rehabilitation in Craig hospital in Colorado. Although the accident left him a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the shoulders down, Billy made good use of this time. During his rehabilitation, he used his 20 years of experience in systems software engineering to help pioneer new voice recognition technologies. Billy returned to his job within a year, as an systems engineer and executive, at Chase Manhattan Bank.

 

At the time of his accident, he was a licensed Captain, a master scuba diver and an avid fisherman. He is the oldest of 12 children, and a decorated Vietnam veteran. Billy lives with his wife and four children in New Jersey.

 

None of the foundation's monies go to its namesake.

Billy's Near Death Experience

I thought I would share an experience with you, to perhaps put in perspective the passing of loved ones. I find it comforts me to tell the story, and I hope it does the same for you.

On July 8th, 1989 my wife Paula and I with our three children had gone to Breezy Point, N.Y., to visit family who were vacationing there. We went by my boat and spent the day at the beach. The wind picked up in the early afternoon, so we decided to leave early. We had plans to take my brother Marty's two young daughters back with us to stay the night, so we all packed up and headed toward the boat. It was moored off a pier. I took off my shirt and sandals, handed them to Paula, put the boat key around my neck and jumped into the water. Waiting there for me, was a submerged object. When I hit the water, I immediately knew my neck was broken. I was conscious the whole time but couldn't move my head above water to catch my breath. A quiet calm came over me, as I knew I was drowning. My last conscious thought before I breathed in the water was for Paula and my children. I thought they would be fine, that I had taken care of their needs.

I then entered a long tunnel, with a very bright light at the end. As I reached the light, there appeared in front of me, a small bridge. It was interesting in that I moved towards it by thinking I wanted to be there. As I stood on the foot of the bridge I noticed some people between the light and myself. The light was by far the brightest light I had ever seen; yet it did not hurt to look into it. This was a place of indescribable beauty, peaceful and serene beyond words. The light filled me with a sense of urgency. I wanted to move closer to it.

Just then, my Grandmother appeared in front of me. Nana had passed a few months earlier, and was a major influence in my life. She was holding the hand of a small boy. He was beautiful, and appeared to be about ten years old. In his hand was a green scapular, a sort of cloth medallion consisting of a two inch square, embossed piece of cloth, worn over the head, on the chest and back. I hadn't seen one in years and was puzzled by its presence and its significance. Nana appeared to me as a young healthy woman, but it was unmistakably she.

"You have to go back, you're not finish yet." she told me. I attempted to move around her, closer to the light, but Nana would not let me pass. The other people there were off in the distance. I recognized other family and friends. They were standing and just smiling at me. At this point, I must tell you that the experience was as physical and real as a discussion between two people who occupied three feet of space could be. "Go back." she said again.

When I eventually regained consciousness, I was in a hospital bed. I immediately realized I was back and in big trouble. I could not move anything except my eyelids, and I was breathing on a machine. Tears well up in my eyes when I realized, not that I was paralyzed, but I had been sent back. During a time before the nurses realized I was conscious, I made a conscious decision to heed Nana�s words, and begin to get my life back to the best of my ability, to "finish" whatever I was sent back to do.

During the next six weeks, I was intubated and could not speak. I learned that I was clinically dead for about 12 minutes. Having a lot of time to think, I realized that the beautiful young boy was James, my brother Shamus�s son, who had died as a young child of a brain aneurysm. I was his godfather. He would have been the same age of the boy holding the scapular.

One night, while I lay in intensive care, a woman unknown to anyone, but witnessed by my mother, entered my room and without a word, placed a green scapular on my pillow.

So you see, I have been given a gift. I am witness to the existence of an afterlife where our loved ones are at peace and waiting for our arrival. It is the gift I share with you. I know with absolute certainty: our loved ones are in that place, with the rest of our friends who have gone before.

I wish you God's peace.

Billy