Brittany Maynard's Choice to Die

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Brittany Maynard has become quite famous over the last few weeks,  not for anything she has done, but for what she is about to do. The 29-year-old, who was diagnosed with a deadly form of brain cancer, has decided to end her own life on Nov. 1, in the state of Oregon, one of five states that offers terminally ill patients the right to "die with dignity," as the law puts it. (Read her story, and watch her share her decision, here).

Wow.

Nov. 1 happens to be my birthday, so the day I celebrate another year, she will most likely be taking her last breath.

She made the decision because of the way doctors say she would die. Already she is experiencing seizures, debilitating headaches and loss of some motor control, and that will only get worse. Earlier this year, doctors gave her about six months to live, although they said because her body is strong, she could live beyond that. But, she would be suffering in hospice care for weeks, maybe months, while the brain tumor slowly robbed her of her life.

She was newly married and trying to start a family with her husband, Dan, when she received the diagnosis. It's a lot to take in.

Since Brittany went public with her decision, people from all over the world have voiced their opinion. Some say her decision is brave, while others are begging her to let the disease run its course, and not pre-determine her own date with death.

I don't have an opinion on whether it is more correct, physically or spiritually, to "die with dignity" or let nature have its way. Or, I do have an opinion, but it's just that -- my opinion. I haven't walked where she's walked. I'm not 29, newly married and facing a short lifetime of intense suffering before my life ends.

But I have been a witness to death, and while it can be unkind and unfair, there is beauty in dying.

And there's also a lot of ugly too.

After my mother died in 2004, from complications from a benign brain tumor, I realized that watching someone suffer is infinitely more difficult than watching them die. Death, at least for her, was an almost welcome reprieve from the pain she endured. But while there was plenty of sorrow in those final days, there was also some measure of joy. Although it's impossible to fully comprehend the finality of death in those moments, I remember being acutely aware that I needed to soak in each minute with her, painful as they were.

I suppose, since Brittany has chosen Nov. 1 as the day to die, which falls a few days after her husband's birthday, she and her loved ones are already receiving that gift.

"When my suffering becomes too great, I can say to all those I love, 'I love you; come be by my side, and come say goodbye as I pass into whatever's next,'" she tells CNN.  I will die upstairs in my bedroom with my husband, mother, stepfather and best friend by my side and pass peacefully."

I can't help but think often of how Brittany and her loved ones must feel. Over and over again, I find myself putting myself in her heartbreaking shoes. She has said she still wants to visit the Grand Canyon. What would I want to do, if I knew I only had a few more weeks to live?

Who would I talk to? Where would I visit? What would I say to someone if I knew it was the last conversation I would have with them?

What would I do differently without the luxury of time?

I have no idea.

But the reality is, in some ways, Brittany is fortunate. Unless she changes her mind, she knows her last day. She knows her end date. She is doing it on her terms.

I want to live like that now. Not in a fatalistic way, but with the knowledge that none of us know when our last day is, really. Even Brittany could have an accident, or have a cancer-related occurrence that could end her life today. Or tomorrow.

Because of my faith, I firmly believe that our last breath here is followed by our first breath in Heaven. I've thought of that moment often, what it must be like to walk out of this Earth and onto the streets of gold. It's a moment I'm sure we can't even begin to comprehend.

But I don't want to focus on death -- Brittany's or my mother's or mine. I want to focus on living. Whether we agree with Brittany or disagree, we can learn from her. We can choose to make every day, every moment count. We can cherish time with our loved ones. We can place people above things, and memories above money. We can allow what's really important to us to guide the choices we make.

If I knew that Nov. 1 was going to be my last day on Earth, I would do so much different. Maybe I should do it different anyway.

I hope Brittany gets a miracle. I hope she visits the doctors one more time and the tumor is gone. I hope she gets 50 years to live. Maybe more.

But whether she dies today or on Nov. 1 or she gets to live to have children and watch them grow up, I hope her story changes the way I live my life.