On the eve of a visit to his oncologist, my father took me aside and told me that I might hear something that would make me uncomfortable at the appointment. He wasn’t talking about the prognosis the doctor might be giving, he was talking about the fact that he was going to ask her about having MAID if the prognosis was not good. With this conversation, Dad was simultaneously preparing me for his decision and asking for my approval. He had similar conversations with my mom and my brother.

True to his word, right after the doctor shared that he might have three to six months, Dad asked whether he was a candidate for MAID.

Less than two months later I sat beside him as he called the nurse practitioner to arrange his death. It was the most courageous thing I ever witnessed.

With a date and time scheduled, we spent the next week steeping my father in love. When the day came, Dad died on his own terms and in the embrace of his favourite people—his wife, his kids and his six grandchildren. It was a beautiful death.

I miss my father every day. And I feel grateful and fortunate to live in a country where he had the option to die on his own terms and we had an opportunity to give him a loving send-off.

Read Kelley’s piece for CBC: My dad’s assisted death was a parting gift. I wish I’d said so in his obituary