Dying Is Part of Living

How Much Freedom Should We Have to End Our Lives?

As my wife of now 33 years approached the later stages of Alzheimer’s, there would be times of lucidity, mostly in the morning, when we would have momentary but meaningful conversations.

By late afternoon she would be confused and asking who I was and if I could take her home — a condition called sundowning.

In those moments of clarity, she would repeat two comments. The first one was that she was sorry that she had become a burden in my life. I would assure her that it was not a burden to care for someone you loved. And I knew that she would do the same for me.

The second comment was that she wished that her life could end before she reached the last stages of Alzheimer’s. She had visited an Adult Center two days a week and seen a wide range of folks with dementia, including some who were lifeless or living in a constant state of confusion.

I remember her words, “That is no life.”

She asked if I could help her end her life when her condition worsened. There is little that I would not do for my wife, but I could not legally do what she asked.

All I could promise is that she would get the best of care in her final days. And she has, at a wonderful Assisted Living place ten minutes from the apartment where I now live.

She survived the coronavirus while eight other residents who contracted it passed away. At one…