Wingman: Escorting My Father to a Death with Dignity

(Daniel Zimberoff is a Top Gun graduate, combat veteran, and former trial attorney turned author and advocate. After his father’s decision to pursue an assisted death, Daniel became a voice to help establish the right for those with terminal illness or intolerable suffering to choose a dignified death.)

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I was in a Swiss hotel room with my father the night before his scheduled medically assisted death. He turned to me, “Danny, you are in charge of the story. Give others the chance I had to find peace.” I had no idea at the time what his request would set in motion, as I was focused on what would be the last few hours I had left with my dad.

Daniel and his father at Naval Air Station Miramar “Top Gun” in 1991

My father—Pop—was born one of seven offspring of a pianist father and dancer mother. His upbringing was defined by opposing forces: a tyrannical father and a suffocating mother. Together, they created a toxic household that left deep emotional scars. Those early wounds followed Pop throughout his life, manifesting as a relentless need for control—an attempt to reclaim the agency he lacked as a child and young adult.

My father and I didn’t always see eye to eye. We clashed early in my life. I admired his confidence and independence, but beneath the surface, resentment grew as he asserted control over many aspects of my world. Helping others was Pop’s defining trait—family, friends, even strangers. Yet, paradoxically, he struggled to challenge himself in the same ways he demanded of me and of others.

At 73, Pop was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease—ironically, an illness defined by the gradual loss of physical and mental control. For several years the disease advanced slowly, then suddenly accelerated. As I watched my father endure his physical, cognitive, and emotional decline, I confronted a tangled web of judgments and unresolved beliefs that intensified the long-standing friction between us. His increasingly erratic and often bewildering behavior only deepened my discomfort. Still, I hoped that in the time he had left, he would confront his own lessons and find a path to healing—one that might finally allow us to make peace as father and son. I wasn’t sure he would.

In the months that followed, when Parkinson’s became unbearable, Pop chose to travel to Switzerland to pursue medical assistance in dying. Switzerland was one of the few countries in the world that allowed non-citizens with non-terminal illnesses to do so.

That decision hadn’t come suddenly. Years earlier, as Parkinson’s was tightening its grip, Pop often said he wasn’t afraid of death—he feared dying. He didn’t want to linger or become a burden on his children. He initially contacted Pegasos, a Swiss organization that helped coordinate assisted dying, as what he called his “insurance policy”—something he hoped never to use, but wanted available if necessary. In the end, he chose to cash it in.

As we departed for Switzerland and a date with death, we both were unsettled: he about to die unresolved and me wondering my place in all of it. The journey was anything but smooth. Strange and sometimes absurd obstacles arose along the way.

David and Daniel on the final flight to Switzerland

On the eve of his death, Pop resolved the last remaining loose end of his life. When he died the next morning, he was in the arms of me, my sister, and son-in-law. My father passed on with love and dignity; finally at peace.

My father’s death, like his life, was unconventional. He was a complicated man who lived an uncompromising life: part wounded child, part devoted husband and father, part counselor, part rescuer. He faced life head-on and helped others do the same. Did my father choose death over life? That question gnawed at my psyche from the moment he announced his decision until the moment he died.

Trying to answer it—and honoring my father’s final request—led me to write Wingman: Escorting My Father to a Dignified Death. The memoir traces Pop’s journey from bulletproof dad to a man crippled by disease, and the transformation of our relationship along the way. It is not a political book. It does not argue ethics, law, or morality. Instead, the story explores the emotional terrain surrounding assisted dying—what it looks and feels like from the inside.

Did Pop have a choice? Absolutely. He could have continued living on Parkinson’s terms. Instead, he chose to end the suffering—for himself and for those he loved. He placed independence and love for his children above all else.

Writing Wingman transformed me into an advocate for end-of-life choice. I became involved with Final Exit Network and other dying-with-dignity organizations around the world, working to increase education, counter misinformation, and challenge taboos surrounding death.

We often frame end-of-life choice as a legal, religious, or political issue. We rarely talk about how it feels. Families facing prolonged suffering experience a volatile mix of love, guilt, fear, compassion, loyalty, and doubt. In writing my book, I wanted to show the human side—the part legislation can’t capture. You don’t have to agree with my father’s decision to understand it. The memoir offers a framework for thinking about dignity, decline, autonomy, and choice, and serves as a reflection tool for anyone navigating aging parents or chronic illness.

As Final Exit Network’s Executive Director Michelle Witte commented, “’Wingman’ is more than a narrative of dying; it is a portrait of living … His father’s journey illustrates both the profound relief that can come from taking control at life’s end, and the immense emotional labor required of those who serve as witnesses and caregivers … Ultimately, ‘Wingman’ is a testament to the dignity found in truth-telling and the healing power of shared narrative. It will resonate deeply with anyone who has supported a loved one through decline, wrestled with questions of control and compassion, or sought to understand the moral courage behind a peaceful death.”

I hope readers take away from Wingman: Escorting My Father to a Death with Dignity that death does not have to be silent, reactive, or hidden. Families can—and should—talk openly about end-of-life wishes long before crisis hits. Love may be expressed most powerfully not by trying to save someone at all costs, but by walking beside them. I once heard that “grace is not preventing loss—it’s meeting it with love.”

As more people with terminal illnesses or intolerable suffering grapple with how to end their lives peacefully, my father’s story shows, at its core, that the choice is rooted in a desire to leave this world with love, grace, and dignity.

At Pegasos moments before Pop passed in our arms

Wingman: Escorting My Father to a Death with Dignity can be purchased on Amazon.

 

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Final Exit Network (FEN) is a network of dedicated professionals and caring, trained volunteers who support mentally competent adults as they navigate their end-of-life journey. Established in 2004, FEN seeks to educate qualified individuals in practical, peaceful ways to end their lives, offer a compassionate bedside presence and defend a person’s right to choose. For more information, go to www.finalexitnetwork.org.

Payments and donations are tax deductible to the full extent allowed by law. Final Exit Network is a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization.

 

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