The Challenging Road of Supporting Someone Pursuing MAiD: Reflections as a Caregiver

Editor’s Note: Gratitude to our anonymous submitter for their deeply moving reflection on what they have learned through supporting a loved one’s MAiD journey. Their words offer comfort, validation, and wisdom to others navigating similar experiences. This piece is part of our ongoing blog series exploring the emotional landscape of grief, love, and resilience after a MAiD death. We are grateful for their openness and vulnerability. Stay tuned for next month’s post as they continue to share their journey.

What I Would Tell Myself Now That I Know

If I could go back and speak to the version of myself who was walking alongside my loved one as they chose MAiD, I would have so much to say.

I would sit with them in their fear, their uncertainty, their exhaustion. I would hold their hand and remind them of things they could not yet see.

Because now, standing on the other side of loss, I know things I didn’t know then.

I remember feeling so overwhelmed, wondering if I had the strength to be the support they needed. The weight of it all - the conversations, the emotions, the responsibility - felt impossibly heavy. But I carried it, even when I doubted myself. Now I know that strength isn’t about never feeling afraid. It’s about showing up anyway, about being present even when it hurts. And I was. That mattered.

I wish I had known that I didn’t have to push my emotions aside. That I could feel sad, or frustrated, or even relieved, and it wouldn’t mean I was failing them. That it was okay to laugh in between the tears, to feel moments of joy even in the heaviness. Now I know that grief and love exist together. That it was never about choosing one emotion over another, but about allowing myself to feel them all.

In the hardest moments, I just wanted time to speed up. I wanted to escape the waiting, the ache of knowing what was coming. But now, I look back and hold those final days close. The quiet conversations, the shared meals, the way they squeezed my hand. Now I know that even though goodbye was coming, those moments mattered. I am grateful I stayed fully present in them.

I remember lying awake at night, wondering if I had done enough. If I had said the right things. If I had made them feel truly supported. Now I know that love isn’t measured by perfect words or flawless actions. It’s measured by showing up, by holding space, by honouring their choice even when it was hard. I did that. And it was enough.

I feared that after they were gone, the grief would consume me. And in some ways, it did at first. But over time, it softened. It didn’t disappear, but it changed. And through it all, one thing remained—the love. Now I know that their absence does not erase our connection. That love continues in memories, in the lessons they taught me, in the ways I carry them forward.

I wish I had known how much support was out there. That there were others who had walked this road and understood what I was feeling. That I didn’t have to carry my grief in silence. Now I know that finding community, reaching out for support, and speaking my truth has helped me heal in ways I never expected.

If you are supporting someone through MAiD, or if you are grieving after they are gone, I hope you can hear this: You are doing your best, and that is enough. You are allowed to feel it all. And you don’t have to do this alone.

Bridge C-14 is here for you - whether you need a space to talk, to grieve, or simply to be with others who understand. Because now I know: finding support makes all the difference.

- Submitted by a Bridge C-14 Community Member

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If this reflection resonates with you, we invite you to share your own experiences. Your story could help others feel less alone in their journey. If you're interested in contributing, please reach out to info@bridgec14.org - we’d love to hear from you.