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It was March, 1991, and spring was about ready to spiral into its artistic pallet of daffodils, tulips, and flowering fruit trees.  Spring arrived much too fast this year, and I was not ready for the truth that I knew it carried in its flowers.  The doctor had said six months when he did the surgery and found pancreatic cancer in her body.  That was last September, and now, as I walked up the path to the hospital, I knew this was the last time I would visit my friend alive.   The hospital room was lined with all her friends as they chatted and laughed with no regard for her dying moments.  They were like a flock of vultures just waiting for the hospital to announce her death so they could get home in time to catch their favorite TV show.  I went directly to her bed and leaned over her head and started talking to her.  I was informed that she was not capable of hearing me, she was too close to death.  I smiled as a response and continued talking to her.   I was standing on the right side of her bed with my left elbow on her pillow and my hand on the top of her head.  My right hand was placed on her forehead as I whispered into her ear that I was here to help her depart and that she had permission to go.  As I talked, her breathing became easier and she began to relax.  I continued to talk in a soft, hypnotic tone, telling her to go toward the Light and explaining to her that she was to become one with the Light.  In only a few minutes she reached her goal and expired in peace.  When this happened, I received a beautiful gift: from the top of her head came a movement that felt like a butterfly had startled me into lifting my hand from her head to see what I was holding.  The movement was like a vibration that hit the palm of my hand and moved quickly across my hand to the thumb, to escape.  It did not go through my hand but rather passed across my palm and felt like it was fluttering.  My metaphysical training gave me to the knowledge to recognize what had just happened, but the reality of the experience was still startling.  I had touched my friend's Soul as it left her body.   I then stood by the bed that held the body of my friend and it was very obvious that she was not there, so what had really happened?  The laughing, fun-loving, intelligent personality that made this body function was gone, so what was it and where did it go?  The question, 'what is life and what is death,' challenged my thinking as I leaned over her body, kissed her forehead, blessing her, and left the hospital.   Touching her soul put me on a cosmic high and gave me an eye-opening revelation.  Could this be a reason murderers find excitement in death?  Having never done drugs, I had no line of comparison to use as a guide to tell what type of high I was on.  Death is supposed to be depressing, with sorrow felt on behalf of the deceased, so I felt a little guilty for feeling euphoric with self-pity for losing my friend.   This mystery has and still is a concern that has energized the interest of the medical profession.  There has been research conducted at the time of death that has come up with interesting results.