I recently attended memorial services for two friends. Both died after long illnesses, and the services were naturally sad. But the subsequent receptions were uplifting. Two lives were celebrated by those who had shared them. Achievements were praised and loved ones recalled. All agreed on one tragedy: that the subjects were absent from an occasion that would have made their departures – and their lives – complete.
One day I know a more generous Britain will allow us to choose when to die and whether to hold such celebrations ourselves. They will seem as normal as birth and marriage. We might be impeded by illness or age, but we could say goodbye to family and friends in good order and to our own timetable. We could savour with those we love the meaning and pleasure we derived from our life on Earth, with the science of medicine to make it tolerable.
