It wasn't intentional that I began reading Marc Sapir's "I'll Fly Away: Stories About Amazing Disabled Elders" right as my 81-year-old father landed in ICU followed by a difficult yet necessary decision to begin hospice supports within his beloved home.

In fact, I'll be honest and say that as I began "I'll Fly Award" I was surprised by its subject matter. I'd taken its title a bit too literally and was expecting stories about those with disabilities who grow into their older years - something I myself am currently facing as a 59-year-old with spina bifida.

Instead, however, I became immersed in a companion to my own very real-life journey with my father as he entered hospice, cared for partly by a grandson who had been living with him and by me as his only surviving immediate family member. His journey ended quickly, too quickly, as his expected 3-6 month survival became less than a month before a day filled with precious time with family members would end with his death in the late evening hours on April 22nd, 2025.

Sapir is a retired primary care, geriatric, and public health physician who was the first Medical Director of the Center for Elders' Independence. He previously worked for United Farm Workers and was a panel member of the Mad as Hell Doctors for Single Payer Health Care.

While "I'll Fly Away" could have easily gone a political route, Sapir's approach here is much more subtle in both celebrating lives and advocating for a community health approach that acknowledges the unique needs and wants of every human being.

Sapir does more than share the stories of 40 disabled elders. He weaves a tapestry that immerses us into their medical and emotional lives, inspiring us with the richness of their humanity and the fullness of their beings even as they come face-to-face with significant illness and death.

Along the way, Sapir becomes the type of physician we all wish we had - not so much perfect as the perfect physician doesn't exist but, instead, one who honors and illuminates his patients' lives and approaches medicine with a drive toward compassion, dignity, and a willingness to see people as they are rather than how he might want them to be.

In my father's journey, I sought to honor the fullness of who he was even into his final days. While there came a point where I made his decisions, this was done with a listening heart and an awareness of who he'd always been and how I knew he wanted to live his final days. He was deathly afraid of having a significant surgery he didn't want and ending up in a facility where he didn't want to live. He was ready to go, a journey most difficult yet a journey I worked hard to honor.

I felt my father's spirit in Sapir's testimonies time and time again.

While I would long for any number of healthcare practitioners to read "I'll Fly Away," it's a book also ideally suited for those who remember, those who grieve, those sharing a hospice journey, and even folks like me who've grown up in the healthcare system and who've struggled to maintain our individuality and identity.

The naturalness of "I'll Fly Away" does on fleeting occasions backfire for me. For example, the use of the phrase "wheelchair bound" is tired and now considered offensive in the disability community. I cringed when it was used here. However, these minor missteps can't extinguish the beautiful light that is "I'll Fly Away."

4.5/5

“I’ll fly away” had me crying within three chapters. Sapir does an incredible job detailing every individual’s story while being respectful in memory. By the end of the book, I just wanted to thank Sapir for all that he’s done for the dementia community, especially that in the Bay.

Through Sapir’s writing, it is clear that death is not the evil of all evils and that community and listening to loved ones will get people farther than they had originally thought they’d be able to go. Having a grandfather with Parkinson’s, I saw a few of his own symptoms and worries from family members of those mentioned, reflecting my own experiences. It was healing to be able to relate and to read stories of resilience. “I’ll fly away” is devastatingly touching and has forever changed my view on the elderly in a positive manner. Elderly people deserve respect and autonomy, especially when it comes to end of life care.