How someone I never knew, touched me so deeply....Connie Littlefoot Fitzgerald.

About two weeks ago, Facebook’s algorithm suddenly began showing me posts from a digital creator named Connie Littlefoot Fitzgerald. At first, I barely noticed them, scrolling past the way we all do. But then one of her videos auto‑played, and I paused.

In the video, Connie was standing in a room of her home, explaining that she had taken several loads to a donation center. She had given meaningful items to the people closest to her, packed up the rest, and planned one more donation trip the next day. That room, she said, would then be “done.” Her entire house was nearly empty except for a few basics in the living room.

I found myself wondering: Why was she packing up her whole life? Was she moving? Downsizing? Starting over? I even saw that she had rehomed her beloved little dog. The more I scrolled, the more the truth revealed itself—directly from Connie.

Connie had terminal cancer. And in her state, she qualified for Medical Aid in Dying.

I had to sit with that for a moment. My spirit felt flooded with love, pride, wonder, and awe for this woman. Tears formed as I realized I was witnessing one of the most profound acts of dignity and self‑determination I had ever seen, unfolding in real time.

Over the next few days, I followed her page closely. She shared that she planned to drink the elixir in about ten days. She had chosen her last meal, selected the people who would be with her as she transcended, and even created her own memorial boards. Through her photos, I saw her life—two weddings, friends, family, pets, vacations, rescue animals, and all the things she cherished. She lived a beautiful life.

I thought about her constantly. I’ve always supported MAID, but watching someone I felt connected to—someone I “knew” through a screen—choose it with such confidence and peace was different. Her cancer had caused severe weight loss, made eating nearly impossible, and left her slowly starving as her body failed. After multiple hospital stays, neighbors and friends cared for her. Never wanting to burden anyone, she settled her affairs and made sure almost nothing would be left undone after her passing.

When the day came, I waited for her final post. It may sound morbid, but I wanted to hold space for her, to send love and support as she made her final journey. When her farewell message appeared, I cried. The grace, dignity, love, and transparency she offered to the world spoke volumes.

I went into meditation, sending her every positive, peaceful, loving vibration I could.

The next day, her dear friend Debra posted that Connie’s heart continued beating for eighteen hours after she drank the elixir. I can only imagine the beauty of that liminal space—between this realm and the next.

Even though I only knew her through a screen, Connie showed me what death with dignity looks like. I’m only sorry I never had the chance to truly know her or be her friend. But I do know this: when my own time comes and I transcend to whatever comes next, I hope I find Connie. I want to tell her that I love her, that I’m proud of her, and thank her—for paving the way, for showing the world what MAID looks like in real time, for being a pioneer for those who will follow.

Her pain and suffering are over now. The universe is hers.🤟