MAID for each other

Some stories stay with you forever. This one will stay with me for the rest of my life.

About two months ago, I met Thomas and Cecelia a couple married for 63 years, together for 65. They had lived a beautiful, full life, side by side, and, as fate would have it, they were also diagnosed with terminal illnesses within weeks of each other.

At first, Thomas cared for Cecelia. She was more symptomatic, and he did everything he could to ease her pain. Then, when her treatments showed small signs of improvement, the roles reversed, and Cecelia became his caregiver as his own illness progressed. Their love moved fluidly like that, each giving what they could to the other, always with tenderness and devotion.

They hired Tongan caregivers who provided extraordinary care, gentle, compassionate, and constant. Together, we made sure Thomas and Cecelia had everything they needed.

Because they were both terminal and given six months or less to live, they each chose to participate in Medical Aid in Dying (MAID). Both qualified, both received their medications, and both decided to keep them tucked away on a shelf, not in fear or haste, but in peace, knowing the option was there when the time came.

As the weeks passed, they grew weaker. Neither wanted to die before the other, and that quiet, unspoken ache was one of the hardest things to witness. Finally, they decided to take the medication together, and they asked me to be there.

Prior to this decision I helped them with their end-of-life planning, which included creating a musical playlist, video messages for their two grandchildren, and finding a new home for their cats.

The morning I arrived, their caregivers greeted me with tears in their eyes. Though they chose not to stay for the ingestion, they had lovingly bathed Thomas and Cecelia, helped them dress in the clothes they had chosen, and even made a meal for me. Their presence filled the house, even after they left.

Before handing them the medications, I sat with Thomas and Cecelia and listened as they shared about their life together, about the joy, the laughter, the challenges, the countless memories that made up six decades of love. They said they had been blessed beyond measure and were ready to leave this world together, just as they had lived it. I witnessed them saying a long, tender goodbye to each other. There was not a dry eye in the house.

Before we began, they handed me a card and asked that I not open it until they were gone. They told me they were ready and Thomas said to me, “Gabby, we are MAID for each other… get it, MAID for each other???” This was a private joke they shared between themselves but felt compelled to share it with me as well. We all giggled.

They took their medications at the same time, though Cecelia laughed softly and told Thomas he was “going too fast.” He slowed down and matched her pace, just as he had done all their lives. They held hands and drifted into sleep together. Thomas took his last breath fifteen minutes later. Cecelia followed two minutes after him. Their hands still tightly clasped together.

I quietly sat with them, tears in my eyes, my heart full of gratitude. I did not rush this moment, it is too sacred for that. To be invited into their life and into their death was an honor beyond words. What I witnessed that day redefined for me what love can look like, steadfast, gentle, and wholly united.

When I finally opened their card, I read these words:

“Dear Gabby,

Thank you for everything. As you shared with us, this option gives us our voice back.

The truth is, we have always had our voice, we just didn’t have anyone who was listening. And you did. Thank you. We will be forever grateful to you. Our wish for you is that you find a love like ours, because you deserve that.”

And I cried.

After calling hospice, I waited until the funeral home arrived. I followed their gurneys out to the car, sprinkling flower petals over them and on the walkway to the car, my final act of love and respect.

This experience changed me. It reminded me of the power of love, choice, and dignity, and how, when we honor both life and death, we bear witness to the most sacred part of being human.

Thomas and Cecelia taught me that love doesn’t end when life does. Sometimes, it carries both hearts across the threshold together.

PS My mom and dad died thirty years ago, and coincidentally, their names were Thomas and Cecelia. Both struggled with a terminal illness, both would have qualified for this option. I would have wished this kind of ending for them.

xo

Gabby

I have never quieted my voice relative to my support of MAID, Medical Aid in Dying. And while I respect those who do not support this, I feel compelled to remind everyone that this is a choice that is made after someone has received a diagnosis and is dying. This option offers them autonomy, a voice, and a choice to end their suffering. I have been present for 250+ people who have chosen this option, never have I done this with two people at the same time. This was a first, and will probably be the one and only, but it has touched my heart deeply and I will never forget this experience.

My only request is that we do not walk away, and regardless of our personal feelings about this, we show up simply so they do not go through this alone. Thomas and Cecelia had two adult grandchildren, their own children died a few years earlier. Their grandchildren supported them but chose not to be there. Thomas and Cecelia gave me permission to share their story.

My poem: “We will not walk away": https://www.thehospiceheart.net/post/we-will-not-walk-away

My book “Dignity Day”: https://www.amazon.com/Dignity-Day-end-life-medications/dp/B0CCCJBT95