My one-hundred-and-one year old Grandfather died last Spring, less that one week after my ninety-seven year old Grandmother, and about one week after their seventy-seventh wedding anniversary. Although it was sad, they were both ready to go, so it wasn’t that hard, all things considered. Although they still had all of their mental faculties, thankfully, they had very little quality of life and were physically uncomfortable. They were very open about the fact that if it was legal to end their lives then they would have. They were long time members of the Hemlock Society. My Grandpa George died with both of his sons holding his hands, as they assured him that it was OK, that he could, “let go.”
