Let’s talk about something nobody really wants to talk about — euthanasia in Canada. Or, as the government likes to brand it, “MAiD.” Sounds gentle, right? Medical Assistance in Dying. But what happens when that system, wrapped in bureaucracy and quiet hallways, takes not one but two of your grandmothers? Yeah… that’s a story you don’t walk away from easily.
Benjamin Turland knows. He’s the Canadian guy who just went public after both of his grandmothers died by euthanasia — within weeks. It sounds like something ripped out of a dark novel, but no, it’s real life. He said it felt like getting punched in the gut. I believe him.
“She Was Going to Die Anyway”
Turland shared that his first grandmother was near the end, sure, but still — she was alive. He said, “She was most likely going to die within a few days by natural causes… it just wrecked me.” Imagine hearing that from your parents: that your grandmother didn’t just die, she was put down. You can’t unhear that.
And then, just weeks later, it happened again. His second grandmother — his “bestie,” as he called her — the one who shared her home, her food, her laughter — was euthanized too. I don’t care how strong you think you are; that kind of double loss makes you question the whole system. And maybe your own heart a bit.
Love, Guilt, and the System
Turland asked the kind of questions that most people whisper to themselves at 2 a.m.: Did I not love you enough? Did I not make you feel like you weren’t a burden? Those aren’t questions you can fact-check or measure. They just sit there — heavy.
And funny enough (not in the “haha” way), this is the part nobody talks about. Families left behind. The ones who didn’t sign any forms but still have to live with the consequences.
He said something that stuck with me: “It’s the choice of MAiD that hurts.” Not just that they died — but that they chose it, or maybe felt pushed to choose it. There’s a difference, and it’s blurry as hell.
Where Do We Even Go From Here?
We can’t ignore the elephant in the room: euthanasia in Canada isn’t slowing down. In fact, it’s expanding — soon to include mental illness. That’s not a dystopian prediction; that’s policy. And people like Benjamin are left holding the grief while officials debate the ethics like it’s an academic exercise.
So yeah, maybe this isn’t a perfect story. It’s messy, painful, full of guilt and confusion. But it’s also real. And if we’re being honest, that’s what makes it matter.
Final Thought
Turland said something that felt almost like a prayer: “Even if you can’t talk… even if I just get to hold your hand.” That’s what this is about. Not legislation. Not cost-saving measures. Just love. The kind of love that says, stay. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. Stay.
