My grandpa died last week. On the months leading up to his death, he lost so much weight as to have the fat in his body replaced with pure bone and skin; he had but brief flashes of lucidity, most of the time not knowing who the people around him were; he no longer spoke, or got out of bed, his days spent lying down, in a near comatose state.
On the day before he died, his daughters agreed to bring him home from the hospital and took him off the IV.
I would be lying if I said I had not thought of that many, many times before.

Solace asks you to consider the dilemma: Is it better for people with terminal illnesses to die painlessly before their lives become a parade of never ending agony? Or is it better to let life run its course and watch as our loved ones slowly wither away, recognizing that we are not God and therefore there is nothing we can do about it?



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