‘It will be okay, Tara,’ I whisper in her ear, gently squeezing her arm. She needs to know that what she is about to do is right. That I’m with her. Her father is with her. And most of all, her mother needs her to do this.

Tara is shaking. A dose of tablets rattle in the plastic cup as she hands it to her mother. Roisin takes the cup from her and with Tara’s help, lifts it to her mouth. She swallows the pills down with some water.

Then Tara prepares the Nembutal. I’m watching over her, making sure she’s doing it right. Cloaking her with confidence. Her face is white. I try to imagine what it must be like to give someone you love the one thing you don’t want to give them. How strong that love must be. But it’s impossible to imagine without a true understanding. Without wearing Tara’s shoes.

I am in awe of my friend, her strength, her composure. The fact that she isn’t crying or begging her mother to change her mind. This is one single moment in time. No past. No future belongs here.

When the dosage is ready I move away from the bed to a chair against the wall. I am just an observer. This is not my mother. This is not my pain and yet I can feel it seeping into me, tugging at my heart, teasing my strength. Don’t cry, I say to myself. Don’t spoil it for Roisin.

When Tara hands her mother the cup, the final dose, ‘Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ starts playing from the speakers, hoping we enjoy the show. I’m thinking ‘Let It Be’ or ‘Hey Jude Don’t Be Afraid’ might be more appropriate but no one else is blinking an eye at it. Maybe they can’t even hear it. Or maybe it’s exactly what Roisin wants.

Then we wait. Tara’s dad clutching one hand, Tara stroking the other. Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. The love, the loss, the sadness and the gratitude is so intense I can almost touch it.

It takes less than an hour before the last breath heaves its way out of Roisin’s lungs and with it, relief. Everything has gone to plan. There was no vomiting, no pain. No excruciating release. Roisin smiled, then closed her eyes.

Tara kisses her mother’s forehead, tears rolling gently from her eyes. I’m almost paralysed with sadness for her but this was the plan. It’s what Roisin had insisted on. Nobody is to be in the room when the nurse arrives the next morning to find her. Roisin wants it to appear like she has done it all herself. That no one else was involved.