God gives us life, and He takes it away.  What those who have never been in the position this woman is, or many others with debilitating diseases, do not realize is that sometimes our lives are taken from us bit by bit.  It is that particular situation, not young people in good health with lives ahead of them going through a rough spot, that I address.


We disabled watch those who love us working to take care of us until they are exhausted. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.  We watch their financial sacrifices, and watch their enjoyment of life drain from their tired eyes.  The more and more dependent we get on them, the more we think "they could have a better life without me."  We love them and want that for them, especially if they are also getting older, feeling arthritis, experiencing heart disease, depression or other health concerns of their own.  


Ever thought God also gives us the will to continue or the courage to die?  The choice to keep fighting beyond physical, mental, spiritual exhaustion, or the courage to free one's loved one's from debt, struggle and the same kind of exhaustion? It just might be cruel to deny this woman the peace she seeks for herself. 


I speak as one whose life has eroded from beneath her feet for decades. My career.  My dreams of motherhood.  The respect of people who knew me but not my disease.  Suffered the contempt of people who do not know me and do not know my disease; managing to find the love within myself that made it impossible to wish they suffer this one day.


I still fight to make the most of every day, , to find, create, as much joy and laughter to buoy my own heart and those of others,  to do as much as I can for myself, for others, for the world, for love.  I admit that I am growing increasingly less willing to fight as my abilities continue to erode, as  it becomes increasingly difficult to make even the tiniest of dreams come true, and most of all, as I see the stress my beloved husband undergoes every day.  I die by breaths, but the amount of time I can hang on, long after I can do nothing for myself or others, stupefies me.   


I am not there yet.  Yet I see my future, with all its pain, and I do not wish that on my husband.  Some day I will be where Marie is, and anyone who stands in my way does not know the first thing about loving others as we love ourselves.  


My prayer is that Marie and the Irish courts find the wisdom to break free of medieval views on death and suicide.  I'm amazed that any Christian who looks to heaven can willingly insist that someone with no will to live any longer MUST suffer and make suffering for the ones they love until some "critical" body part wears out. 


I could not say I love anyone that  I made endure suffering: physical, emotional, mental.  If you think you can confront God and say "I kept her from killing herself so you could decide when," don't be surprised if He says "I loved her enough to let her decide when she could stand no more, and you didn't love her enough to let her go."  Cause the God I believe in would say just that.  I hope the Irish courts know that God.
 


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