The grief journey after Medical Assistance in Dying (you may see it referred to as MAID), is often quiet, complicated and misunderstood. To begin the conversation about grief after medical assistance in dying we must first understand the process and lay to rest misconceptions.
Medical assistance in dying is a legally regulated process in Canada allowing a person who meets criteria to choose to die with the help of a medical physician. The person opting for medical assistance in dying must have the mental capacity to make this decision for themselves and consent may be withdrawn at any time. In addition, there are strict policies in place so medical practitioners understand medical assistance in dying is not to be offered in lieu of medical treatment for the purpose of reliving the burden on the health care system. It is intended to relieve suffering for individuals with incurable illness that will eventually result in death to relieve unbearable suffering. Medical assistance in dying does not increase the number of people who die but does provide dignity to those who choose this path for themselves. It can restore a sense of empowerment to individuals who have lost so much - control, autonomy, comfort, and the ability to shape their final chapter in a way that aligns with their values. It is important to recognize that this is not the right path for everyone. Many people, guided by their personal values, cultural traditions, or religious beliefs, feel deeply opposed to medical assistance in dying. To fully embrace the practice, their perspectives deserve respect too. Grief, choice, and end‑of‑life decisions are profoundly personal, and no single approach can – or should – speak for all.
As a certified celebrant, any personal feelings I have must be set aside to meet people where they are. I have had the deep honor to walk with people in planning end-of-life celebrations for loved ones who have died using medical assistance in dying. Simultaneously I have held space for loved ones who are opposed to their loved one’s decision. I have walked with families who are divided but coming together, united by their grief. No one journey is alike but being a celebrant experience has led me to the conclusion each death is a story of courage and empowerment, reclaiming all that illness has taken.
Some families choose to keep the decision to use medical assistance in dying private, often out of fear of judgment, misunderstanding, or backlash. As a celebrant, I honour that choice. There are services where I stand before a congregation holding the deeper truth of the deceased’s final days, carrying it quietly and respectfully at the family’s request. I speak of their journey with illness, their resilience, their courage, and the love that shaped their final chapter. The details of their decision remain protected, held in confidence, and I am honored this trust has been placed in me.
There are those who choose to share their story with openness and pride. Their families describe a passing filled with peace – a final chapter shaped by their own hands. They select the music that will cradle them, the light that will soften the room, the day and when their suffering ends and control is returned to the individual. When invited to speak of their journey, I honour their courage aloud. I encourage people to celebrate the strength it takes to choose one’s ending, to reclaim authorship of a story that illness tried to take away. I have permission to share a story of a mother who chose medical assistance in dying, choosing a date when her adult children could be present. In the moment of her passing, the three of them stood at her bedside, their hands layered over her heart as she took her final breath. This story is not to romanticise the medical assistance in dying process but rather to demonstrate how peaceful it can be.
Some individuals who use medical assistance in dying fully embrace their decision and choose to celebrate it. They create a day for those who wish to visit, to say goodbye. It becomes a kind of living funeral – an opportunity for people to share the words we often wait to speak in a eulogy. Too often, we wait until someone has died to express how deeply they mattered. A living funeral allows the person to hear the impact they’ve had on the lives around them. Not everyone will be comfortable with participating in the process but is a priceless gift for individuals to know how deeply loved they are; after all, they will not be here to hear their eulogy.
Grief related to medical assistance in dying is complex; it is often grief that hides in the shadows, longing to be seen.
There is the anticipatory grief that begins long before the chosen date arrives – the grief we feel as we watch our loved one decline, as we walk beside them through the medical assistance in dying process, and as we wait for the day they have chosen to die with assistance. It is a grief that stretches across time, a grief requires us to remain courageous and present as we prepare to let go.
Disenfranchised grief is grief that is not fully recognized or supported by society. People may judge or misunderstand the choice for using medical assistance in dying. We know that some people have strong religious or cultural beliefs that lead them to views of medical assistance in dying being a sin or an immoral choice. These people may find supporting medical assistance in dying difficult or an impossible option while remaining true to their own values.
Losing someone we love is a journey we never want to navigate. There is never a day we are ready to say goodbye, and we will always want just one more day, one more conversation, one last hug. It may be helpful to remind ourselves that while medical assistance in dying may have hastened their death, it did not cause the death. When a loved one chooses medical assistance in dying and invites us to walk that path with them, they are entrusting us with their legacy. They ask us to hold their story of courage, to honour their choice, and to share their truth only when we feel ready. It is a responsibility shaped by love, and a privilege that stays with us long after they are gone.
