Last night my sweetheart and I discussed ageing. Not the laughable comments we make about our present little handicaps. Back-pains and sore hips. The inabilitly to ever regain the much missed body shape one once had. The need for reading glasses and so on. More the serious questions of severe senility. What happens if he turns a complete doter. Or I a doteress. Or if one of us ever reaches a point of suffering so unbearable that death would be a gift of mercy. Given the age difference between us, our talk naturally turned more to the question of what I am to do, when his life gets unbearable. Coming to that point, we were diverting the topic to our parents quickly. As his mother and both my parents are still alive. Somehow we weren’t able yet to really look at ourselves. To be honest, if I were begged by a loved one, to turn the switch off, I am liable to do it. Maybe that comes from my core conviction that every human being has the freedom to end his/her life at their own will. At least if there are no dependants around any more.
Later, before falling asleep, I recalled a comment my sweetheart made recently. About me being the woman who’d have to bury him. But untill then, he’d do his utmost to have many good years with me. Which I think was the most moving declaration of love I ever got. Notwithstanding its implications.