My daughter’s maternal grandfather was diagnosed with a medical condition which went through years of treatment, but the final prognosis was not positive. The illness would continue to weaken his body and in a matter of months and perhaps a year or so, his quality of life would deteriorate. So with all his faculty, his jovial attitude of life at large, he choose to give his best last moments to his wife, children and grandchildren before assisted dying.

My daughter told me that granddad had chosen to die with dignity through medically assisted dying (I’m sure her words were coached). I looked at her seriously and said that we live in one of the few countries in the world where a person can make this brave decision. It must not have been an easy decision, but it was his choice.

I urged my daughter to spend as much alone time as possible with her grandfather without others around and without the need to filter any conversations. Every moment she can, my daughter would try to spend time with her granddad. Watching TV, talking, joking or even napping together. Since he couldn’t come to her recital, she brought her cello and played for him. I had heard that he didn’t listen to just one or two pieces, but through one or two books each with 10 pieces of music! In the end, she was filled with love and joy and felt blessed at the time she received.

 

She learned that living isn’t just merely existing; it is about growing and thriving.

 

My daughter was driven back to my house that evening by her aunt’s husband when the doctor showed up after the last meal. I asked my daughter what her grandfather had for dinner? She said, “EVERYTHING!” We both chuckled. Then she said to me, “Dad, it was a beautiful evening. We had lots of food, lots of laughs, we played music, had a movie in the background and the younger kids are running around stirring a commotion.” So it was like a normal evening? “Totally. I’m glad I spent the time with him.” Are you sad? “Yes and no. I’ll miss my gong-gong, but it’s not because we didn’t spent time together.” I’m so happy you are moving through this experience in such a healthy manner. How is everyone else? “Sad. Very sad.” Everyone takes a different path.

Of all those being left behind, I think my daughter dealt with it in the most constructive ways. Perhaps it was her exposure to death at a very early age or she saw me take a positive attitude at my friend’s funeral after his suicide. She, like I, believes that funerals are for the living, not the dead. And a gathering for a loved one is really the celebration of life’s eternal and unbroken ties.

I am immensely happy that my daughter has taken such potentially crushing emotion and moved through it in a positive way. No missed opportunities, no loss for words and no regrets. In his death, gong-gong gave my daughter a present few can do: by embracing death, he taught her how important it is to live life to the fullest. She learned that living isn’t just merely existing; it is about thriving and taking advantage of every opportunity and always growing. My daughter’s memory of her grandfather isn’t one of an ill, aging and bed-ridden man in palliative care. She will forever remember her grandfather to be a strong, happy, rational and the bravest of all souls.