Brittany Maynard died Saturday, at the age of 29, choosing to deprive her brain cancer of its ultimate victory. She told us all it was coming, and gave eloquent voice to her reasons for wanting to “die with dignity”.
So why am I in tears? Because she seemed like a beautiful, gracious soul, inside and out? Articulate, compassionate and selfless, using precious remaining time to share her personal struggle? Because the photos of her beaming alongside her loving husband on their wedding day, their whole lives ahead of them, wrench my heart? Because her mom’s first waking thought from now on will be the pain of losing her only child? I’m sad about her kids not born, the summits she hasn’t climbed. I’m sad just thinking of her dogs wandering the house, always looking for her. And I can’t help but think about my own son, smiling along with his new bride in their freshly minted wedding photos, and my two 20-something daughters. Unthinkable.
Who does Brittany make you think of? Your daughter? Sister? Best friend? And then it hits me. That’s exactly why we all mourn Brittany. The public face of death has never before looked or sounded like her. We got to know her, and care about her. As we followed her journey, we felt a prickling doubt at the heart of our unspoken certainty —that our own death is something “down the road”. And that when it finally comes, it will be something calm and dignified, the gentle kiss-goodbye to a life well-lived. But too many of us pay dearly for this willful myopia: having our choices and dignity—our final opportunity to guide our own lives—railroaded by a system that’s confident it knows what’s best for us. A system where the best-meaning medical teams are trained to intervene and save our lives at all costs. Because we didn’t write anything down that asked otherwise. Sadly, 60 percent of us say we don’t want our family burdened by these tough decisions, but almost as many have not communicated our wishes.
So here’s the ray of sunshine on this sad day. Who knows how many of us—because of Brittany—might now be asking ourselves “what do I want for my end-of-life decisions? Does my family know what I want?” What I know for sure: sharing this stuff with your family before “something happens” can be the greatest kindness you ever give them.
Like Civil Rights, Women’s Rights and other social movements, no one person or event changes the course of history. Culture change reaches critical mass through a crazy quilt of contributing pushes—from advocates, regulations, organizations and public debate. But notice that in hindsight, we can always look back and identify defining moments– leaders and events with the singular capacity to change minds and hearts. Regardless of where you stand on Brittany’s personal end-of-life choices, I believe we’ll look back on her as one of these rare people.
That makes her legacy a tremendous gift to us all.
Not sure where to start the conversation with your family? Here are some links.
National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization
