We often hear stories about terminal illness, loss, and grief—but seldom do we confront a tale as wrenching and profound as this one. Corinne Gregory, a chef from Port Ludlow, Washington, made a decision that many would find unimaginable: in August 2021, she helped both her elderly parents end their lives on the same day under Washington state’s Death with Dignity law. In her exclusive interview, she calls it a painful paradox—the heartache of helping the ones you love do what they themselves have chosen, on their terms.

This isn’t an easy story to read, but it’s a story that forces us to think differently about suffering, choice, love, and the boundaries of compassion.

A Quiet Life, A Growing Suffering

Corinne’s parents, Eva (92) and Druse (95) Neumann, had lived full lives. Eva worked in management for many years; Druse held roles in the electrical supply business. In retirement, they moved closer to family in Washington. For a time, their health decline was gradual. But as the years wore on, the weight of age, injuries, and chronic conditions made life harder.

Eva had long battled heart issues and was diagnosed with aortic stenosis, a narrowing of the heart valve that limited blood flow. The prognosis was poor: doctors predicted perhaps 18 months to two years if she opted for an invasive procedure—but she declined, saying she didn’t want to lose quality for a possibly limited gain.

The real turning point came with an accident: one night, Eva got up to use the bathroom, stumbled in the darkness, and fell—her head struck a sharp corner. That fall landed her in the hospital and triggered a cascade of complications. And soon afterward, Druse began experiencing stroke-like symptoms. Two parents hospitalized. Two lives in jeopardy.

The Decision to Seek Dignity

As the medical assessments piled up, Corinne and her parents had difficult conversations. With Eva’s condition worsening, doctors suggested hospice care—an acknowledgment that remaining time would likely be limited. The idea of hospice felt like surrender to some, but for Eva, it was a reality check: staying alive didn’t always mean living well.

Because Washington is one of the states where Medical Aid in Dying (MAID) is legal, Eva qualified. Under the law, terminally ill patients who meet strict requirements may self-administer prescribed lethal medication to end their life. It’s crucial to distinguish that it’s not euthanasia—patients themselves administer the medication, rather than a doctor delivering it.

Eva made the choice. She wanted autonomy, control, and a peaceful exit rather than a prolonged decline. That decision hit Druse hard. He was terrified of life without her—incapacitated and alone. As Corinne put it, he couldn’t conceive of going on without her presence.

In a heartbreaking but deeply human twist, Druse decided he, too, would seek MAID—desiring to pass alongside Eva. Corinne found herself in a surreal role: as the “advocate” for her father’s end-of-life process. She was walking that tightrope between honoring wishes and confronting mortality.

Preparing for the Final Day Together

The weeks leading up to their departure were filled with tenderness, ritual, and urgency. Corinne says she treated those days like a final gift. She cooked beloved meals, hosted “Last Happy Hour” evenings, shared stories, and tried to weave love into every moment.

Then came a chilling but ponderous milestone: receiving the lethal medications from the pharmacy. Corinne remembers the package arrival—two white envelopes, stapled, bearing the names of Eva and Druse. She called it “surreal,” like holding time bombs in a closet.

Together, they picked a date: Friday the 13th, August 13, 2021. In true, bittersweet family fashion, they joked about how choosing any date would forever stain it in the calendar. The evening before, Corinne staged an intimate dinner. They called it the “Last Happy Hour”—wine, laughter, childhood stories, favorite foods.

That night, she lay beside her mother in bed for a while, soaking in what might be the final ordinary moment of their lives.

The Final Moments

On the morning they chose, Corinne, her husband, and two counselors sat with Eva and Druse. The counselors helped guide the process, offering emotional support and preparing the moment.

Music filled the room. Conversations turned to last words. Hands were held. Corinne recalls pouring a final glass of wine, offering a toast. Then, one by one, her parents ingested the doses. Within minutes, their bodies began shutting down. About ten minutes in, peacefulness descended. An hour later, both had passed. The final pronouncement came around noon.

Throughout, Corinne says she tried to be as present as possible. The weight of grief finally broke her the next night—she “sobbed her brains out” in markings of both relief and loss. Grief counselors later confided they had never handled such a double transition in a single day.

The Painful Paradox, Revisited

Four years later, Corinne is still speaking out—not to explain, but to share. She describes the experience as a painful paradox: the deep conflict between wanting to preserve life and honoring death. The last thing any child wants is to see their mother go—but in that moment, she was the one helping make that final passage possible.

By opening up, Corinne hopes to nudge the conversation forward—urging people to talk about death, about autonomy, about compassion. She compares it to how society treats animals: when suffering becomes intolerable for pets, we allow euthanasia. Shouldn’t people deserve something similar in their final chapters?

She calls for less taboo, more empathy, and wider access where laws permit. She wants people to understand: this was not about giving up. It was about gifting dignity, respect, and control in the face of decline that neither love nor medicine could reverse.

The Bigger Questions to Grapple With

This story raises questions many shy away from—but are essential if we want a more humane society.

What is dignity in death? When the body fails, should the mind—and the person—retain agency over how much suffering to endure?
Where does love end and grief begin? Corinne loved her parents so fiercely that she gave them the power to choose their ending. But the grief she carries is no light burden.
Can policy keep pace with human reality? Right now, only some states allow MAID. Many families suffering under similar burdens have no legal path to a controlled exit.
What does it mean to honor suffering? Are we better off prolonging life or relieving pain? How do we teach future generations to face death without fear?

A Final Thought: No Easy Answers, But A Powerful Legacy

Corinne’s decision falls into a realm that most of us never imagine entering. Her choice, and the path she walked, may never fully make sense to everyone. But what remains undeniable is the love behind it—the years of memory, the intentional last meals, the laughter in the face of sorrow.

This story doesn’t belong only to her family—it belongs to all of us. Because the day will come when we face a decline we can’t reverse. The question is: will we have the courage to talk about it? Will we grant each other the grace to choose?