In May of 1970, I married a man I had met on my second day of university in 1967. I still have a vivid memory of the air crackling with energy when we first made eye contact. I used to quip that I married him for two reasons: his keen intelligence and his beautiful, dark curly hair. Three years later, our lovely daughter, Jessica, was born. 

Graeme was blessed with an interesting career. After completing his PhD from Harvard, he was hired to teach Buddhist Studies at McMaster University in Hamilton. Describing himself as a small “b” Buddhist, he fascinated hundreds of students with stories of this mostly unknown (at the time) religion and philosophy. He loved branching into new topics. He co-taught a course in Death and Dying, which rapidly became extremely popular and attracted students from a wide variety of disciplines.  He was subsequently honored for excellence in teaching by the McMaster Students Union. 

His work then took a significant turn. While continuing to teach Buddhist Studies, he helped co-create and became Director of the Center for Peace Studies and his travels took him to different war zones to support their peace building processes. 

When he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Cancer in 2020, we were familiar with MAID. We had celebrated the Supreme Court ruling and I had subsequently been involved in starting a Dying With Dignity Canada Chapter, so the possibility of MAID was an integral part of his end-of-life care planning. 

He had a wonderful oncologist who was very supportive of MAID, and we were quickly in touch with the providers, two lovely and compassionate women who began the ongoing assessment of Graeme’s eligibility for MAID. Much to Graeme’s delight, he discovered that two of the doctors on his treatment team had taken his course in Death and Dying years before. Many jokes ensued. 

Our end-of-life discussions included questions about his treatment, as well as the bigger, existential questions about the meaning of life, the choices we had made along the way, loss, death, and the possibility of an afterlife. Just as importantly, it raised the issue of how he would spend the time he might have left. He decided that the legacy he wanted to leave behind would be to complete the most recent, extensive research he had been doing on peace and war. 

As he went back to his research, I began mine into the intricacies of cancer treatments, both traditional and non-traditional. After much discussion, he chose a treatment plan that included a mix of both. I continued my research throughout his cancer always looking for more evidenced-based treatment possibilities. I felt empowered by doing this research. It gave us a degree of confidence, in a world of wildly contradictory information. And taking his cue from Norman Cousins, Graeme decided that humor should be part of his plan, and so our daughter spent many evenings with him, while they laughed themselves silly watching re-runs of Frasier and Seinfeld. 

It is important to note that knowing he had the choice of MAID freed him from fears of loss of control, being dependent on others for his personal care, a prolonged and painful death and dying in an institution. This freedom helped him remain focused on his research which he completed just days before his death. 

Toward the end of Graeme’s cancer, his oncologist told him that in the dance between the cancer cells and the healthy cells, sometimes one large cancer cell could emerge and that would mark the end. And that is in fact what happened. His pain and discomfort increased dramatically. The two women who were going to administer MAID scrambled to change their schedules to accommodate this sudden change. 

And so, in our sunroom, on a beautiful April day, Graeme took his last breath. He was surrounded by the clinicians, as well as memorabilia he had chosen for this occasion. Our daughter sat by his side, holding his hand and cueing the hauntingly beautiful piece of Indian music that Graeme had chosen. I sat by his feet, with our little dog Che asleep on my lap. 

When the doctor gave him his last injection, Graeme’ s heart did not stop beating right away, so she had to wait a few minutes. While we waited our dog gave a little “woof” and the doctor immediately jumped up to check Graeme’s heartbeat again and she said, “He’s gone. Animals often know”.   

Che then indicated that he wanted to be with Graeme, so I placed him on Graeme’s still warm tummy and covered them both with a soft blanket. It was quite a while before the people from the funeral home arrived, and the dog remained unusually quiet until then, perhaps wanting to accompany Graeme at least part way on the next phase of his journey. 

Our daughter and I were so grateful that Graeme had the choice to end his life on his own terms through MAID. The experience felt almost transcendent and helped ease our grief enormously. 

53 years of marriage is no small accomplishment, and I carry Graeme with me every day. I miss his companionship, the breadth of his knowledge and intelligence and, of course, those beautiful curls.