This reflection is part of Comfort Notes, an ongoing series exploring the questions, insights, and human moments that emerge from our work with Medical Aid in Dying.
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Recently, we gathered for a housewarming at Tranquility House, a home we've opened for people who will come to southern Vermont to spend their final days.
Our gathering brought together an expanded team, what I think of as a small ecosystem of people who make Medical Aid in Dying possible here.
For many who travel to Vermont for Medical Aid in Dying, leaving home is part of an already difficult journey. Leaving behind familiar surroundings, cherished comforts, and sometimes beloved people and pets is yet another letting go.
Some travel great distances, bringing their medications, medical records, and caregivers, but also their fears and tears. Here, we hope they can set down some of those burdens and find a place of comfort, dignity, and choice.
This is what Tranquility House was created to offer.
At our housewarming, the fireplace was ablaze, and the rooms filled with the warmth of people who care deeply about end-of-life choice. I read a blessing I'd written for the occasion, which now hangs just inside the front door, welcoming all who enter.
Not long after the housewarming, one of our local physicians who prescribes Medical Aid in Dying medication met with a man who had traveled all the way from Texas. During their conversation, the man shared a simple wish: for his last meal, he wanted his favorite steak.
The very next day, the doctor stopped at our local hardware store, bought a grill, and donated it to Tranquility House. He had simply heard what mattered to this man and made it possible.
The grill now awaits this man’s return to Vermont.
In the meantime, while the Vermont weather is still grill-friendly, a different man (from Florida) is spending three weeks at Tranquility House while he pursues eligibility for Medical Aid in Dying. His daughter, sisters, cousins, and friends come and go as their schedules allow. They are also putting the grill to good use.
Each new arrival of his family is welcomed by our team, greeted by the blessing on the wall, and embraced by the care and comfort of our small, local ecosystem.
Perhaps this is what it means to make room for death among the living: a house filled with family, a simple wish met with extraordinary kindness, and people who understand how much these moments matter.
It's an honor,
Leslie Zucker
Executive Director
The Comfort Project
