What just happened?

As a child, I remember when my father used to go out of town on business.
My brother and I would gather around a map and carefully trace out where he was, following the roadways between our home in Dallas, to wherever his company had sent him at the time.
The distance between us, although it felt large in our hearts, seemed easier to deal with on that United States map, it was as if he were only as far away from home as we had to trace out sometimes. And that assuredness in knowing where he was often held our anxieties at bay.
Of course we were never as excited as when he came home. He would often walk through the door looking exhausted and haggard, but glad to be home. As soon as he crossed the doorway, he would drop his luggage like sacks of ready-to-mix concrete and plop down on his favorite chair, where my brother and I would straddle his boots and gently rock them off of his feet.
Eventually he would bring out gifts for my brother and me, telling us how he found them and where they came from. One year, after he came back from Pennsylvania I believe, he reached into his black, leather bag and retrieved a small, shiny red marble, surrounded by a gold band on which was inscribed the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
As simple as it was, I used to look at that marble every day, the way the light reflected off of the cherry red, tiger-eyed finish, the simplicity of the lesson etched onto the golden ribbon.
And it was that marble that has been rolling around my thoughts lately when I think of Terri Schiavo.
Although no one knows exactly where she is in her mind, or exactly what she is aware of, some people are confident enough to say that she should die, or more exactly, she should die in the slowest, most drawn-out way possible.
It turns out she would have faired better had she killed someone, preferably in Texas. That way she would have been put down reasonably, with drugs to slow her heart down until she floated into the great beyond; there would be none of this starving to death in a manner not befitting of the family pet, not to mention a human being.
But I guess judges have to be confident before they hand out death humanely, it is in those borderline, not-too-sure cases that require the long, agonizing deaths. Yet some arguments evade my reasoning.
If she isn’t aware of her surroundings, what harm is it to speed up the process? If she is aware, how is it legal not to help her die?
But I agree that it is a complicated case, and there is no certain answer. But there is still common sense, and to suffer is inarguably the worst way to die.
Some people seem to have lost their common sense on this one. Seems like it has been sucked out by some dark, swirling funnel cloud of conflicting emotions because Schiavo is nowhere you can trace out on a map. What she is experiencing is a virgin frontier that few return from, but everyone seems to know all about lately—even if they know just enough to think for those in it.
As for me, if I ever get caught in that limbo, tuck a shiny red, marble into my hand, follow the inscription on the band and put me down like I was a criminal. It seems far better than the alternative.