A very dear friend of mine died by MAID today. As I was sitting vigil at my own home during the provision, the sun burst through the clouds and through my window, wrapping me in warmth. I expect that was the moment she passed.

Tears flowed… for her, for her husband and family, and for my own sister, Donna, who also died by MAID in 2022.

I’ve been wanting to write a story since then, always telling myself I’d do it “when I got around to it.” Today, I am inspired to share.

Donna was adopted into our family as a one‑week‑old infant, and I was born eight and a half months later. For about three months every year, we were the same age—until her birthday arrived and she became the “older sister” again. Even though we were so different in genetics and personality, I considered Donna my twin and loved her fiercely. I still do.

There are so many stories I could share about Donna’s MAID journey, but I will focus on two.


Choosing the Date

Once Donna’s assessments were complete and she was approved for a MAID provision, a date had to be chosen. Oh my, that became a very tricky part of her journey.

Donna’s life was full of uncanny milestone events that happened on the 11th day of the month: our dad’s death date, her daughter’s birth date, and many more “elevens.” So naturally, she wanted her MAID provision to be on the 11th as well. But July 11 was “too soon,” August 11 was too close to my birthday, September 11 was her daughter’s birthday, and October 11 was probably “too late.” It became a real conundrum.

As she struggled to choose this all‑important date, we struggled too. It was painful to watch and not be able to help—partly because any suggestion from me might be seen as coercion, which is a clear no‑no in the law. But also because my fear of losing Donna was mixed with hope that she would pass quickly to avoid suffering, and that we would all feel some relief when she did. That hope, of course, triggered feelings of guilt.

As hard as it was for Donna to choose her date, it was just as hard for her loving caregivers to witness the struggle. This is a passage I wrote in the early summer of 2022:

The not knowing was torture, more painful than death.

The hope was more painful than death.
The witnessing of decline was more painful than death.
The witnessing of her confusion over the decision was more painful than death.
The wishing for it to be over was more painful than death.
So the patient suffers, and those who love her suffer in an entirely different way.

Ultimately, Donna chose August 30, 2022 as her provision date. And in a lovely twist of fate, her house sold on August 11.

The Parade

Once the date was chosen and we could focus on creating a meaningful celebration of life, many important conversations followed. One day, I asked her, “What do you want at your celebration of life?”

Without missing a beat, and with a twinkle in her eye, Donna replied, “A parade!” I laughed out loud and suggested a horse‑drawn parade, since her love of horses was legendary. Her joyful reaction told me we had to make it happen.

And we did.

Calling in favours from family and friends, and lobbying hard with municipal staff who were not initially amenable to the plan, we created a parade from the chapel to the gravesite. Donna’s daughter rode the horse, lovingly holding the urn with Donna’s ashes, and all the attendees walked behind.

It was the most poignant parade I have ever witnessed, let alone been part of.


A Final Letter

I will close by sharing an excerpt from the final letter I gave my sister in August 2022:

Courage doesn’t exist without fear. You’ve made a very courageous decision to follow a path less travelled to end your earthly suffering. And you are afraid. And I am afraid. But we’ve always been there for each other through our fears and courageous moments. That doesn’t change, ever.

Thank you for trusting me to celebrate your courage and support you in your fearful moments. When I need some courage, I will think of you.

Twins don’t have to be born of the same parents. I cherish our sisterly bond, and I will forever be grateful to have spent 63 years together here on earth. I believe in a divine and joyful afterlife, and I expect you will be welcomed with joy into heaven by many of those you love.

I have prayed for your peace of mind. It’s time to let go and let love envelop you as you follow your divine soul path.

With tears in my eyes and love in my heart, 


Barb 


xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo 

P.S. Life offered one more beautiful twist: Donna’s daughter recently welcomed twin baby girls into the world. Our family now has another set of “twins,” and it feels like Donna’s love is still weaving its way through us.