Just over a week ago I sat with my twin flame Kathleen as she calmly performed two unsuccessful suicide attempts over the course of four hours, using a different technique each time. I have never seen such resolve and commitment in another human being. It was beyond any possible doubt the hardest experience of my life. It took all my strength and love to stay present for her as the events unfolded.

The experience taught us both that amateur suicide is a risky, failure-prone undertaking (please pardon the dark pun.) It's easy to think you know more than you do, and of course there's no chance to practice. I can't stress how much I do not recommend it if a medical option is available. The following morning she initiated the request for professional assistance under the legal provisions for MAID (Medical Assistance in Dying).

Kathleen has had a deep, lifelong mistrust of institutions and the people who run them - especially medical institutions. Her fear of losing her autonomy to a bureaucracy that cares more about its rules than her needs was what made her determined to do it on her own. In the end, it seems her fears were unfounded, and any slight risk to her autonomy is vastly outweighed by the professionalism and compassion of our palliative medical community. Blessings upon all these angels of mercy.

Neither she nor I are all that attached to life, it would appear. That took some of the edge off what would normally be a very fraught decision. As always I am in complete alignment with her wishes, and am in awe of her courage and clarity. We are indescribably grateful to live in civilized 21st century Canada, with access to both legal medical marijuana and legal medical suicide.

Kathleen has had two independent medical assessments as required by law, and has been ruled eligible to receive medical assistance in dying. She will have the procedure on Wednesday, September 5, 2017 after the mandatory ten day waiting period has expired. The consulting physicians were kind, empathetic, and caring beyond our expectations. They are doing everything in their power to ensure her a peaceful, pain-free death. The home care nurses who have come every day are similarly dedicated to her comfort. The entire palliative care system has performed in the highest traditions of compassion at every turn.

She and I have been meditating on the amount of horror and misery that exists in the world. In contrast, the degree of privilege represented by our experience is breathtaking and humbling. That it is available without cost or question to an ordinary, impoverished middle class couple scrubs away the grimy crust of cynicism, to reveal the best of humanity.

There is no sadness in our home today. Instead there is a spirit of quiet celebration and joy. We both feel a profound sense of completion.

Our journey that began 45 years ago at a smoke-filled hippie party and wound its idiosyncratic way through years of friendship and decades of separation, has culminated in a seven-year explosion of unconditional love when we re-united in 2010.

We have done everything that needed doing; we have left no thoughts unspoken. We have forgiven everyone - whether they needed it or not; we have told all our loved ones how much we love them. We have said our good-byes, no more words are needed. The look in her eyes tells me that we are truly one soul.

When we look into each other's eyes for the last time next Wednesday, as the doctor gives her the release she desires, it will be with full consciousness and the certain knowledge that neither of us is really going anywhere.

May all beings find peace.