Power and control. Two unspoken, honest ambitions of all humans, yet we still find referencing either in our day to day lives to be impolite or inappropriate. We carry these quiet ambitions under our cloaks of caution to appropriately reveal in the right situations. Like many who grapple with the terms of engagement in many social situations, I have been conditioned to see power and control as negating forces not to be centered in my being. This fall my dear friend; Sue Murphy taught me otherwise. Sue passed away of medical assistance in dying (MAID) on November 11, 2023, teaching me that power and control are essential aspects of the human condition for us to lean into rather than shy away from.
Sue left behind a loving family and countless friends. I was blessed to be one her of friends, while the Covid realities put a long pause on our visits, she was always a call away with her sharp wit, intelligent commentaries, and kind words. Sue talked endlessly about her sons, sister, and her beloved grandchildren. They were loving anchors in her life. Sue was fiercely independent and the epitome of consummate learner. Life moved in unexpected ways last spring and Sue was challenged with deteriorating health. This past fall she decided that her time had come, and she enacted the processes of medical assistance in dying. When she told me, I was shocked, heartbroken, and literally jumped in my car to see her. This was a new landscape for me, unlike my previous experiences with loss, I couldn’t initially process the organization and orchestration of MAID. I felt panicked and confused, I couldn’t wrap my emotional mind around how controlled this end-of-life option could be. Fast forward through our many visits together this past fall, I learned that power and control are the ultimate, raw constructs of our shared humanity. The grace and dignity of setting the terms of engagement in your death was new learning for me. Unexpectedly, one paradoxical dimension of my learning was that while we grasp for power and control in our lives, there is still beautiful mystery that guides our journeys.
Power, control, and mystery. On the day of Sue’s death, I discovered a noisy circling of crows centering around an old tree behind my house. They were relentless as they powerfully soared through the crisp November sky. As I walked by the tree on my way to Remembrance Day observations at our community’s cenotaph, I discovered a little barred owl perched on a branch on a tree behind my home. Not once in the decade of living here have I ever had the treat of finding an owl perched in that old tree. As you do, I quickly snapped a picture, shared it with my husband, and hurried on. Upon returning home several hours later, I looked in the tree and was surprised to see that the little owl was still seemingly watching and waiting.
Sue’s death was scheduled for early afternoon. I found myself obsessively watching the clock minute by minute, feeling the heavy hands of time, I decided to quiet my mind in manual labour clearing leaves from the garden and culverts of our laneway. Not activities I favour or excel at, yet lifting the wet, muddy, decaying leaves under the watchful eyes of that owl felt right. As I moved through the motions, I kept the little owl in my sight finding unexpected comfort in its presence. Sue had told me when we had said goodbye that she would find ways to let me know that she was still with me. I told her that I would always think of her when I swam, something she loved to do, and when I stopped to smell the roses, something she told me to slow down and do more often. We laughed together about how she might turn up in my future life and she said, ‘just wait and see.’
That little owl remained perched in the old tree for hours. There was something mysterious and comforting about this creature as I continued to physically work through my own grieving process. As the piles of leaves diminished and the culvert opened, I heard the rustle of branches and the noisy return of the crows, and I realized that the little owl had left. Strangely his departure coincided with the planned time of my dear friend’s passing leaving me feeling an unexpectedly sense of awe and wonder alongside of the deep sorrow of loss.
The mystery of this little owl alongside of the power of Sue’s right to choose dignity and control in her medically assisted death were new learning experiences for me. The seeming juxtaposition of power, control and mystery unravelled in my mind as I discovered the connective threads between our human desires to understand the terms of engagement in living, dying and the proverbial ‘great beyond.’ Humans seek, and need, power, and control over their existence, yet we also need to surrender to the mysteries of life where there are sometimes there are no answers. Finding comfort in the discomfort alongside of ease, grace, and dignity in our being are privileges not to be taken for granted. As the poet Mary Oliver beautifully wrote in her poem White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field, “maybe death isn’t darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us.” Through the opportunity of MAID, Sue was able to circumvent the continuing devastations and indignities of her medical realities. In her brilliance, she set the terms of engagement and medically assistance in dying allowed her the dignities of doing so.