I told you I loved you. And I lowered the pillow over your face.
It hovered there for what seemed like an eternity.
But in the end, I couldn't do it. I was weak. A coward. Not my mother's daughter.
I collapsed on the floor, sobbing.
You must have known: you died hours later.
Finally, you were in peace.
Mum, I hope you forgive me. Not for the clumsy way I've written this letter (you were always a masterful wordsmith) but for not having the courage to help you when you needed it most.
If it's any comfort, Dad, Suzie and I are campaigning for voluntary euthanasia.
This was my wake-up call.
Let your suffering – and that of so many others – be a lesson to those short-sighted, selfish, puerile politicians who refuse to show compassion to their fellow man. And woman.
How many of them have seen someone they love die in agony, and live with feelings of grief, regret, and helplessness?
Like I do. moreExactly. What these politicians are doing is to prolong the suffering of her mother. I can say from my own experience with my wife, that months and years of suffering by the loved one makes grieving for them afterwards much harder. You remember how much the pain and indignity was destroying them, rather than more pleasant memories of departing from this world. You watch them in terrible pain, screaming, but there's nothing you can do. They are for me now haunting memories.