Assisted Suicide

The above, aired on BBC's Sky news, is a report on (and video of) the final moments of a man named Craig Ewert. This was the first time an assisted suicide was aired on public television.

Watching this video made me cry for the second time in years.

The first time was a few days earlier, after Thanksgiving, when while at my parents we received a phone call that my grandfather had died.



He was an amazing man. Often seen as the gruff type, not unlike in "Grumpy Old Men."
Yet, I'll never forget back when I was a kid, when I had been sick once and he came over to take care of me. He brought me donuts holes and juice...neither of which I could eat (I was too sick). But they were the types of food that would have made him feel better...and as a kid that was enough to show me that he had cared.
That and the secret handshake...

I was ready when he died. I had said all I needed to him. I had made my peace.

Years ago.


He suffered from severe Alzheimer disease. First slowly losing track of what was going on around him... then eventually completely losing all short-term memory (by the time his wife passed away from lung cancer).
I'll never forget the look in his eyes at her funeral. It was like he was watching a story unfold...one he knew the ending to...but couldn't quite grasp the plot of.
He cried, and told her he missed her. Then he'd be ok for a few minutes...only to repeat it all over again.
I thought it horribly sad, through each realization, that his reactions were strikingly similar to that of a confused child.

At least during his funeral we wouldn't have to be put through that again.


Every day, for weeks after, he asked where his wife was.

Eventually he stopped asking.


Over the next few years I would call him.
"Hey papa, it's Derek."


"Hey papa, it's your grandson Derek."


"Hey papa, it's your grandson Derek...Jeff's son."


Once he forgot who my dad was I couldn't call any more.


The reason I'm crying while writing this isn't because I miss him, and I do. It's because of the memories I have of losing him well before his death.
It's because of having to watch my father struggle to hang on to his father. Watching my dad struggle to find peace with himself...knowing that there was nothing he could do to help.

How many times a day can you call someone that doesn't remember you...until you stop.

How many times can you try and comfort yourself...telling yourself there's nothing you can do about it...until you actually believe it.

At what point do you stop trying...because you know it's something you're only doing to content yourself.


My dad didn't find the answer to any of these questions.


Because of our society's close ties to religion, it will probably be a long time before professional assisted suicide becomes an accepted act of death...which is somehow different than over-medicating and pulling the plug on a machine.
By then we'll probably have a cure for Alzheimer disease anyways.

I find it sad that my OTHER grandfather has already built a solution in the event he needs to end his own life.
But I also commend him.
Society isn't going to help his cause.

Your life is your own. As is mine.

I will refuse to live, if my sole existence does nothing but sadden others.