The Sacredness of the Pause

I recently sat beside my 325th patient who chose to exercise their legal right to ingest the Medical Aid in Dying (MAID) medications.

No matter how many times I bear witness to the end of a human life, it remains an honor. While I understand there are many people who do not support MAID, and I respect that, it is something I do support because I have seen the suffering that often comes long before the decision itself.

No one arrives at this choice lightly. It usually comes after every attempt to find physical, emotional, or spiritual comfort has failed to bring relief. Because of that, it means something to be trusted enough to stand beside someone in that moment.

It was during this recent experience where I was reminded of something important. I think people sometimes romanticize death, especially when choice is involved. Families often imagine MAID as simply taking medications, drifting off to sleep, and peacefully dying moments later.

And while there can absolutely be peace in it, it is still a process. Sometimes there is discomfort.

Sometimes there is fear. Sometimes there is suffering in simply having to say goodbye this way.

Even when a person is given autonomy, dignity, and the ability to end unbearable suffering, there is still heartbreak for the people witnessing it.

I am reminded how important it is not to soften death into something unrealistically gentle just because we wish it could be.

Whether or not someone chooses MAID, what matters most is remembering what it feels like for the people at the bedside quietly trying to prepare themselves for a world that is about to continue without someone they love in it.

I am reminded to slow down even more. To pause between breaths. To pay closer attention to what is happening in the room. To guide gently and honestly, without trying to shield people from the reality of what dying can look like.

Because death, no matter how it happens, is hard. There are layers to it. Layers of grief, love, fear, relief, peace, and heartbreak carried not only by the people at the bedside, but even by those of us who do this work every day.

I have witnessed more last breaths than I can count, and still, each one asks something of me: a moment of silence, respect, and pause for the sacredness of a human life coming to an end.

A reminder of the sacredness of the pause.

xo

Gabby