Miracle in The Andes

by Nando Parrado

There was a moment of complete silence, then I heard a slow, wet creak as the loose snow settled under its own weight and packed around me like rock. I tried to move, but it felt as if my body were encased in concrete, and I couldn’t even wiggle a finger. I managed a few shallow breaths, but soon snow packed into my mouth and nostrils and I began to suffocate. At first, the pressure in my chest was unbearable, but as my awareness dimmed, I stopped noticing the discomfort. My thoughts grew calm and lucid. This is my death, I told myself. Now I will see what lies on the other side. I felt no strong emotion. I didn’t try to shout or struggle. I simply waited, and as I accepted my helplessness, a sense of peace overtook me. I waited patiently for my life to end. There were no angels, no revelations, there was no long tunnel leading to a golden loving light. Instead, I sensed only the same black silence I had fallen into when the Fairchild hit the mountain. I drifted back into that silence. I let my resistance fade. It was over. No more fear. No more struggle. Just bottomless silence, and rest.