A word about my dad’s death: After having lived 93 great years, my dad developed “failure to thrive”, could swallow well, no longer interested in reading, unable to walk steadily, confined to his assisted living room.

He had always believed that when he was too “confined” to find joy in life, that he wanted to die on his own terms.

He called me and asked me to be his “coach” in stopping eating and drinking (his state, Pennsylvania, does not have a medical aid in dying law).

I flew out to support him. He informed all of his doctors and the wonderful staff in his facility that his quality of life had gone. On hospice, his nurses agreed to keep him comfortable (Voluntary stopping eating and drinking is a tough thing to go through). That night he made the decision to stop and I ended up being more of a linebacker tackling well meaning health professionals who wanted to feed him.

One nurse arrived with a vanilla ice cream cone (my dad’s favorite). I asked if she remembered his wishes but she insisted. I told her I would give it to him. She looked at me, handed me the ice cream, and left the room. It took my dad six days to die, his pain and anxiety managed by medications.

Arizona does not have a medical aid in dying law (as do 11 states), so we can’t choose to die with dignity. My father, a beautiful man, had the courage of his convictions, and I still miss him greatly.