They say that grief is simply love with no place to go. As I sit here during my first Christmas without my mother, looking toward the start of 2026, I realize that my love for her has found a new home: in the peace she finally achieved.
For many years, my mother fought a grueling, relentless battle with Parkinson’s disease. It is a cruel illness that doesn’t just take your mobility; it slowly dims the light in your eyes. For the last two years of her life, I had the profound honor of having her live with me and my family in Los Angeles.
The Reality of the Long Goodbye
Living together meant I got to see her every day, and my children got to grow up with their grandmother under the same roof. But the reality was far from a storybook. My mother was completely bedridden. She couldn’t participate in the daily joys of being a parent or grandparent. Instead, she spent her days in a hospital bed, trapped in a body that no longer felt like her own.
The hardest part of those two years wasn’t the caregiving or the long nights; it was watching her happiness for life vanish. I watched the light go out in her eyes as the pain became unbearable and her quality of life became non-existent.
Navigating the Choice: Our Experience with Pegasos Swiss Association
When the pain became too much, my mother made the bravest decision I have ever witnessed: she decided to go out on her own terms.
We worked with Pegasos in Switzerland to facilitate her death with dignity. I want to share this specifically because their care was exceptional. This wasn’t a rushed decision; it was a lengthy, months-long process involving rigorous interviews and evaluations to ensure this was truly her wish. The team at Pegasos treated her with such immense respect and dignity, ensuring she was certain and comfortable every step of the way.
Returning to the Mountains
Switzerland held a special spark of joy for her. We had first traveled there together in 2013, and she fell in love with the alpine air and the vast, green horizons. Returning there felt like bringing her home to herself.
We stayed just outside of Basel. The views were breathtaking, rivaling scenes from The Sound of Music, one of her favorite films. There was a surreal, sacred weight to the trip. There is something incredibly unique about knowing exactly when your loved one is going to pass on. It allows for a level of presence and closure that is rarely granted in this life.
A Final Act of Love
I am so grateful that I was able to support her through this transition. I am also deeply thankful that my brother was there by my side, helping us walk her to that final finish line together. To see her finally free from the hospital bed and the constant pain was the greatest act of mercy we could offer her. She passed away surrounded by the beauty she loved, with her dignity fully intact.
The Year of Firsts
As I enter 2026, I know I am facing a “year of firsts.” The first Christmas, the first birthdays, the first milestones where I can’t walk into the next room to see her. But while she is gone from her bed, she is everywhere else. She is in the sunsets, she is in the mountain air, and she is tucked safely in the hearts of my children.
I share this because I know how isolating the journey of chronic illness and end-of-life decisions can be. If you are navigating a similar path, please know that you are not alone. My heart and my inbox are open.
Mom, you are finally free. We love you.