I will always remember my Catholic mum said to me; last time we had this debate about Assisted Suicide when it went to the then High Courts sometime in the 00’s. I remember her saying as we watched the announcement on TV in our living room with great sigh “I think people should just be allowed to go to heaven on their own flight plan.” Mum was always great to make something sound so simply to sound so deep and meaningful.

Some year’s passed, and my mum had Bowel cancer, stage four. Eventually she had to be moved to a hospice. By the final weeks, even pain-relief could no longer dull her agony. What do you say to someone who is desperate to die, not because they are suicidal, but because they are exhausted? Frail and failing. Her dignity, slowly stripped away by bedpans and catheter tubes. She didn’t want to die soon, she wanted to die free.

And then, she slipped into a vegetative state. Kept on a ventilator, a cocktail of pain relief. The staff were excellent but what played out in that room was not care. A choreography for an audience who had left. She never woke up. I never got to say goodbye. And so I sat watching her endure the kind of final chapter no one should have to read. She died at the age of 57. I was 19; three days after my birthday.

What that did to me is hard to describe. Saying it “changed me” is an understatement.

It destroyed my relationship with my dad, walking out of home and not speaking with him for years. I entered into abusive relationships with male partners that were more about survival than love — clinging something broken just so I didn’t have anything empty. When that didn’t work, I turned to drugs. Quietly, efficiently. A functional addict in a society that often confuses coping with recovery. I’m clean now — three years and counting. (Though I’ll admit I still cling to a vape or a cigarette like it’s a lifebuoy.) I live alone but for the first time in years, I like the sound of my own company. My dad and I have mended our relationship – I love my Dad. At last, some peace. Some.

But the peace that took me years to make is not the peace my mum was allowed. And that’s why I support Assisted Dying Bill because of my story.

There’s a peculiar cruelty in forcing someone to live in unbearable pain for the comfort of others.

I know it is a sensitive issue, and I want to ensure it has all the safeguarding. Not a wild west free for all. However, some members in the Liberal Democrats and MPs (whom I respect, but will not name) believe this Bill is “illiberal”. That, in giving people the right to choose death, we are somehow undermining the value of life. I can’t understand it.

Because liberalism is about agency. About trusting people to make decisions about their own bodies, their own beliefs, their own futures. What could be more liberal than giving someone, of sound mind, who is in agony the right to choose a peaceful, dignified end? Or do we just support continued cruelty and suffering? As I always said in previous writings; I believe liberalism is about giving the “freedom to, and the freedom from”. Not reforming our outdated law breaks those fundamental principles.

The Bill, as it stands, has some of the strictest safeguards proposed anywhere in the world. And yes, some say it doesn’t go far enough — that it excludes those with chronic but non-terminal conditions. But now it should not be used as an excuse to stop those who are already eligible from having this option.

And people seem to think that allowing assisted suicide will be their only option and will “destroy palliative care.” People still can, will, and have both.

I think about my mum often. Not just in her final days, but in the days before — when she could still smile, still speak, still be herself. That is who I wanted to say goodbye to. That is who she wanted to be, right until the end.

I take no comfort wanting to lose a loved one but that isn’t my choice.

Because if we believe in dignity, we must believe in the right to choose a dignified death. Because if we believe in compassion, we must extend it even to those who are leaving us.

And because if we believe, truly believe, in freedom — then we must also believe in the freedom to say: enough.

* Andrew Chandler is the Digital Officer for North Staffordshire Liberal Democrats