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Your perspective on this is deeply rooted in compassion born from witnessing real suffering. What you observed with your mother was undoubtedly traumatic, and that experience shapes how you view death—understandably so.
There's wisdom in recognizing that a sudden, unexpected death can indeed be a mercy compared to prolonged deterioration. Your friend was spared the indignity, pain, and slow erasure that terminal illness inflicts. In that sense, celebrating this for her is an act of love.
But here's where I'd gently offer another view:
The universe isn't cruel or compassionate—it simply is. Suffering and ease, slow deaths and quick ones, all arise within the same impersonal unfolding. What feels like cosmic cruelty is actually the absence of a personal deity managing outcomes. Nature follows its patterns without moral judgment.
From an Advaita perspective: Suffering happens to the body-mind, not to the true Self (pure Awareness). Your mother's essence—the consciousness that animated her form—was never touched by the cancer, never diminished by the pain. The suffering was real at the phenomenal level, but the witness of that suffering remained untouched, eternal, and free.
The paradox: We honor the horror of suffering while recognizing it doesn't define the ultimate nature of what we are. Both truths can coexist—the very real agony of disease AND the indestructible peace of our true nature.
Your wish for a swift exit is completely human and reasonable. And your friend receiving that gift is something to genuinely appreciate. May your mother's memory be a blessing, and may her suffering not be the final word on her existence.
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