Goodbye

This was written a week ago.

Ten days ago, I and many other people in this community received an email from a friend. Attached was a document. Before I had even opened it, I knew what the contents would be, not because it had ever been discussed, but because I just knew.

Gail has suffered ill health for many years, with her quality of life deteriorating with each passing day. As I read the words, my suspicions were confirmed. Gail was ending her life in ten days’ time. She invited all of us to visit in the ensuing days and/or spend her last moments with her.

It was three or four years ago that Gail moved from this community to an aged care complex, two and a half hours away. She had a lovely unit there with the option to move into hospital care in the future, should that be required. She is a remarkably strong woman mentally and has now chosen to end her life, rather than move to the hospital.

Stephen and I visited her two days after receiving the email. As happens so many times, we had meant to call in and see her while passing through. On our last trip away, we had got Covid and had to go straight home. That was back in March. I think it was probably a year or so earlier since we last saw her. I was so pleased that she had forewarned us of her plans. It gave us this opportunity to visit and say goodbye. I would have regretted it if word had got through that she had passed away and I had not seen her recently.

We had a lovely hour together. Though barely able to talk, Gail still retained her sharp sense of humour, and we shared some good black-humour laughter. I tried to impart some of my knowledge about living on after we die, as I think she had fears about the actual dying process. And I did ask her if she minded if I write this blog and she was fine about it.

One of Gail’s biggest concerns was what would happen to her cat. She had not found anyone who was willing to take her on. I volunteered, then I remembered all the roaming dogs who pass through here and thought it might not be such a good option but that didn’t seem to worry Gail. She was more interested in finding someone who she knew would love her cat just as much as she did. So tonight, I will be the proud owner of an eight-year-old, beautiful, long-haired black beauty. In The Collective Us, I devote a whole chapter to my previous cat, Paws, who died six years ago. I had kind of thought that I wouldn’t get another as 17 years is a long time for an animal who could very well out-live me. But I do love cats and this one is already mid-life.

But the biggest thing for me to get my head around is actually having a date to die. I asked Gail lots of questions. She was happy to talk to me. Could she change her mind? Yes. What was the process like? What does it feel like knowing you only have so many days left? In Gail’s case, her health is so bad, that this decision will bring her relief, finally, and that was what the passing of the euthanasia law was for, for people like Gail, who will no longer have to suffer. She phoned me a short time ago, to discuss the cat, but because talking was so difficult, I suggested she provide the phone number of her recent carer who would know exactly the cat’s likes and dislikes. That way she could save what little energy she had left for her friends who have gathered at her bedside.

So, by the end of today, I will have lost a friend, but gained a cat. And Gail has promised not to haunt me if I do anything wrong with her baby. We had a final laugh together.