grief

The Importance of Respite in Hospice Care

Caring for someone at the end of life is one of the most profound acts of love a person can offer. It’s a journey that asks for patience, compassion, and emotional strength—but it also requires balance.

The Importance of Respite Work

In the world of hospice care, we often speak of comfort, compassion, and dignity—but one essential element that sometimes goes overlooked is respite. Providing care for someone at the end of life is an act of profound love, but it can also be emotionally and physically draining. Respite offers caregivers the gift of rest—a necessary pause to breathe, reflect, and restore. It isn’t selfish; it’s essential. When we take time to care for ourselves, we are better able to show up, fully present and grounded, for those who need us most.

Respite: Connection Beyond the Family Circle

Respite isn’t only for the caregiver—it’s also profoundly meaningful for the person who is dying. Having someone new step in, even for a short while, can create a space for connection and understanding that feels different from family dynamics. Often, families are navigating layers of emotion, history, and exhaustion that make open communication difficult. A respite worker brings a calm presence—someone outside of those complexities—who can simply be there. These moments of companionship and genuine care can offer comfort, laughter, and even healing. In many ways, respite becomes a bridge: it strengthens the circle of support and reminds everyone involved that this journey, though deeply personal, is never meant to be walked alone.

For the dying, these quiet moments often open the door to conversations they may feel unable to have with their families. Topics of faith, unresolved conflicts, or personal regrets can weigh heavily, yet many hesitate to speak openly for fear of upsetting loved ones or creating tension. As a Death Doula or respite companion, we often become the safe space—a neutral heart that listens without judgment. Sometimes it’s the confession of a lifelong secret, a struggle with belief, or a wish that differs from the family’s expectations. Other times, it’s simply the need to speak freely about fears, doubts, or the unknown. These exchanges are sacred. They allow the dying person to unburden themselves, to be seen and heard wholly, apart from family expectations, traditions, or unspoken rules. In giving them this freedom, we help bring peace where silence might have lingered.

Respite: A Gift to the Family

For families, respite is not a sign of stepping back—it’s an act of love. It allows them the time and space to recharge, to process their emotions, and to return to their loved one with a clearer mind and a softer heart. When caregivers take that time away, even briefly, they are better able to be present, patient, and compassionate when they return. It also helps the person who is dying feel less like a burden; they can rest knowing their family is being cared for, too. There’s a quiet relief in seeing that those they love are supported—that their care is shared.

Respite care also brings a new voice into the room—someone the family can talk to about the realities of death and dying without fear or hesitation. Many families carry unspoken worries: Are we doing enough? Are we making the right choices? These thoughts can weigh heavily, especially in moments when emotions are already running high. A death doula or respite worker can gently guide these conversations, offering understanding and perspective without judgment.

Sometimes, in the presence of an empathetic outsider, families find the courage to talk to one another again. Walls begin to lower. Old hurts soften. The shared experience of caring for a loved one at the end of life can become an opportunity to rebuild connections once thought lost. Respite provides the breathing room needed for families to come together—not in fear or guilt—but in love, honesty, and grace.

Respite: Guidance Through the Hard Decisions

Beyond rest and relief, respite offers something equally important—guidance. Families often find themselves overwhelmed by the many decisions that must be made near the end of life. From medical choices to funeral preferences, every detail can feel heavy when grief and emotion are intertwined. Having a respite worker or death doula involved brings both clarity and calm to these moments. Because we are not as emotionally entangled as family members, we can help navigate difficult conversations with sensitivity and balance.

A Death Doula often works alongside the dying person to create a death plan—a road map that reflects their values, wishes, and spiritual or cultural beliefs. This plan becomes a source of peace for everyone involved. The family can lean on the Doula to ensure that their loved one’s desires are honored, freeing them from the pressure of guessing what is “right.” In this way, respite becomes more than a pause—it becomes a partnership. It allows the dying person to have their voice heard, the family to find reassurance, and the process itself to unfold with grace and intention.

The presence of a death doula doesn’t end when the dying takes their final breath. In many ways, that’s when their role deepens. Families often describe the days and weeks following a death as a blur—filled with decisions, visitors, and an emotional weight that can feel unbearable. Having a death doula by their side during this time offers both structure and solace. We can help with the practical details—guiding families through funeral preparations, final paperwork, and even helping to restore calm within the home. But beyond logistics, it’s about creating a sense of continuity and care.

When a Doula has been involved throughout the dying process, they’ve already built a bond of trust with both the family and the deceased. This connection allows them to act as a gentle bridge—ensuring that the person’s final wishes are honored exactly as planned, and that the family feels supported every step of the way. Whether it’s helping organize a meaningful service, tending to the home space, or simply sitting in quiet presence, the Doula’s role becomes an anchor in the storm of grief. Their calm steadiness reminds families that they are not alone in the aftermath—that even as one journey ends, care and compassion continue to guide the way forward.

Respite: A Circle of Care That Never Ends

Respite care, at its core, is about connection. It weaves together the dying, their family, and those who stand beside them in service and compassion. Through every conversation, quiet moment, and act of guidance, a Death Doula helps remind everyone involved that this journey—though marked by loss—is also filled with love, reflection, and meaning. It is not just about easing the transition for the one who is leaving, but also about nurturing those who remain. By offering space to rest, to speak, to plan, and to simply be, respite care transforms what can feel unbearable into something deeply human and shared.

Death may close a chapter, but the bonds created through this work linger. They become lessons in empathy, understanding, and the true power of presence. In the end, respite reminds us that caring for the dying is never just about death—it’s about honoring life, in all its beauty, fragility, and grace.

Walking Beside Death: My Journey to Becoming a Death Doula

I was first introduced to the idea of a Death Doula when my grandmother was nearing the end of her life. We hadn’t been as close as I’d always hoped we might be, but life, as it often does, had a way of scattering intentions between responsibilities and miles. One Christmas, I made the two-hour trip to visit her in Gatineau. The moment I saw her, it was as though the air left the room. The woman who had once seemed indestructible—sharp-witted, energetic, and endlessly resourceful—was now frail, unable to eat because of a cancerous mass in her throat.

That visit was a wake-up call. I knew the family needed to understand the reality of her condition, and once everyone saw her declining health, we decided to move her closer to home—closer to two of her children, and to two of her grandchildren, including me. Eventually, she was admitted to a nearby hospice center, a small, serene building with just eight beds. I remember being surprised at how few there were, but the nurses explained that this small number allowed them to give each patient the same level of devoted, compassionate care. I quickly saw the truth in that.

In that hospice, surrounded by gentle voices and soft light, my grandmother and I became closer than we had ever been. We spoke about everything—her end-of-life wishes, her regrets, her hopes for how she’d be remembered. What had once been an unspoken, even taboo subject—death—became a space for honesty, humour, and healing. One afternoon, as we sat together, I thanked her for spending so much of her remaining time in conversation with me. It was a gift, truly, to speak so openly about something so often avoided.

That’s when she mentioned her Death Doula. She said it with such calmness, as if introducing an old friend. Her doula, she explained, was helping her navigate the “sticky situations” she didn’t feel she could bring up with me or the rest of the family. There was something deeply comforting in that—for both of us. Someone was walking alongside her, offering presence, understanding, and peace in moments when words were too heavy to carry.

I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind: a person whose role was to support someone through the final transition of life, just as birth doulas support new beginnings. The thought lingered long after her passing, reshaping how I viewed death—not as a cold, clinical event, but as a profoundly human experience deserving of dignity, comfort, and compassion. That introduction to the work of a Death Doula planted a seed in me—one that continues to grow.

After my grandmother’s passing, I couldn’t shake the idea of the Death Doula. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like a quiet calling—one that had been waiting patiently in the background, just waiting for me to notice. So, I began to research. What exactly does it mean to walk alongside someone in death? What knowledge, compassion, and resilience does it take to be that calm presence in the storm?

As I dove deeper, I realized this wasn’t just an interest; it was a vocation. My journey into the world of death work became both a personal exploration and a professional pursuit. I read everything I could find—articles, books, interviews, training programs—anything that might help me understand how to support others through the profound transition of dying.

But what I discovered along the way surprised me. For all of Canada’s compassion and emphasis on healthcare, the landscape surrounding death care felt patchy at best. Death Doulas are recognized here, but there are no standardized regulations or governing bodies to ensure consistent training, ethics, or quality of care. Essentially, anyone can call themselves a Death Doula, which means the level of support people receive can vary greatly depending on who they happen to find.

While there are some schools and certification programs, they’re mostly private, and what you earn at the end is just that—a certificate. To some, that piece of paper might not hold the same weight as a university degree, but what it represents is far more profound: empathy, presence, and the courage to face what most people spend their lives avoiding. Still, it made me think about how Canada, for all its advancements in health and wellness, is missing the mark when it comes to death.

We prepare meticulously for birth, career, and retirement, but not for dying. It’s almost as though we collectively agreed that if we don’t look at it, it might not happen. But it will. And that’s precisely why this work is so important.

My research only deepened my conviction that this is where I’m meant to be—helping people reclaim death as a natural, sacred part of life rather than something to fear or hide from. In many ways, it feels like closing the circle that began with my grandmother: turning something painful into something purposeful, and finding meaning in the most human of experiences—our shared mortality.

As I continued my research, I began to see how my past experiences had quietly prepared me for this path all along. My background in life coaching, nutrition, wellness, and grief counselling provided a strong foundation for the kind of work a Death Doula does—holding space for people at their most vulnerable, guiding them toward peace, and supporting both body and spirit in times of transition.

Life coaching taught me how to listen without judgment and to help others uncover meaning and direction, even in moments that feel uncertain. Nutrition and wellness gave me insight into the physical and emotional connections that sustain us, especially when the body begins to change or decline. Grief counselling opened my heart to the many ways people process loss—sometimes with tears, sometimes with laughter, often with both.

When I began my formal training as a Death Doula, it didn’t feel like starting something new—it felt like coming home. Each lesson resonated deeply, confirming that this was where I was meant to serve. I learned how to support individuals and families not just in practical ways—helping with advanced care planning, vigil sitting, or navigating medical decisions—but also emotionally and spiritually, by being a steady, compassionate presence when everything else feels uncertain.

What I love most about this work is that it restores a sense of humanity to dying. In a world that tends to medicalize or hide death away, a Death Doula reminds us that this final chapter deserves as much care, attention, and reverence as any other stage of life. It’s not about fixing or saving—it’s about being there. Bearing witness. Offering comfort. Helping people live fully until their very last breath.

I share all of this so that you, as the reader, can truly understand the level of discouragement I faced when I first stepped out into the world with my new calling. You might imagine that people would welcome a Death Doula with open arms—after all, who doesn’t want comfort and understanding at such a tender time? But the reality, especially in a small town like mine with a population of fewer than six thousand, was far more complex.

Most of the residents here are of retirement age or older, which on paper sounds like the perfect place for this kind of work. But death, as I’ve learned, still makes people uneasy. When I began sharing my plans and talking about what a Death Doula does, some were open and curious, while others resorted to humour—jokes about me bringing the Grim Reaper along, or warnings to “be careful what you sow.” I understood it wasn’t malice, just discomfort. Still, it was disheartening.

Even more difficult were the reactions from people who could genuinely benefit from my support—those in need of respite care or living with terminal illnesses. When I offered my services, some looked at me as though I had personally handed them a diagnosis. My intention was always to offer peace, not fear, but I began to realize that even the word death can be enough to make people recoil.

And then, there was the issue of perception. With my facial piercings, tattoos, and long, untamed Irish red hair, I suppose I do look a bit like a modern-day hippie. I’ve come to embrace that. But in a small, traditional town, it often means people see the “look” before they hear the message. I could be talking about compassion, dignity, and the sacredness of end-of-life care, yet I’d still sense the quiet judgment. It was frustrating to feel unseen for the very qualities that make me me.

But nothing prepared me for the day I walked into our local funeral home. I went in with such hope—pamphlets in hand, heart wide open, ready to collaborate. The funeral home has several branches across the Eastern Townships, and I thought this might be the beginning of a meaningful partnership. I imagined a cooperative effort where, if someone came in to make future arrangements or had received a terminal diagnosis, the funeral home could refer them to me for emotional and spiritual support until the time came to return to their care.

Instead, I was met with resistance. The elderly woman at the front desk accepted my pamphlet with visible hesitation. As she read it over, I launched into my carefully practiced elevator pitch, only to be cut off halfway through. She informed me, rather curtly, that they “offered all of these services already” and would not be working with me. I was stunned—speechless, really. Before I could even respond, she went on to tell me I was “a hippie” and that I should “get a real job.” She accused me of trying to steal what they had spent years building.

Her words landed like a physical blow. I hadn’t come to take anything from anyone—I had come to give. To collaborate, not compete. To create a bridge of support between the living and the dying, not to threaten the legacy of an institution. I left that building with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart, realizing that even compassion can be met with suspicion when it challenges the familiar.

Still, as painful as that encounter was, it only strengthened my resolve. Change rarely begins with comfort. And perhaps it takes a little bit of rebellion—a little bit of that “hippie” spirit—to challenge the way we view death and those who dare to walk beside it.

In the time since that day, I’ve come to see those difficult moments not as failures, but as lessons in perseverance. Every skeptical glance, every uncomfortable laugh, every closed door has taught me something vital about the work I’ve chosen to do. Death is not an easy subject, and breaking through the walls of fear and misunderstanding takes more than knowledge—it takes courage, empathy, and patience.

I’ve learned that being a Death Doula is as much about education as it is about presence. It’s about gently reintroducing people to the idea that death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. It’s about showing families that they can face this chapter with grace, dignity, and even connection, rather than avoidance or dread. And it’s about helping people understand that when we talk about dying, we are, in truth, talking about how we live—how we love, forgive, remember, and let go.

My mission now is to bring that understanding to my community, no matter how small or slow to change it might be. I want to create space for honest conversations, to offer guidance and comfort to those nearing the end of life, and to support their families in finding peace through the process. I hope to work collaboratively with local caregivers, health professionals, and—yes—even funeral homes someday, so that together we can build a more compassionate and holistic approach to dying and death in the Eastern Townships.

I know I don’t fit the traditional image of a professional in this field. My tattoos, piercings, and long, wild red hair might make me stand out—but maybe that’s exactly what’s needed. Maybe change looks like a woman who refuses to hide her authenticity while walking fearlessly beside those facing their final journey.

My grandmother’s passing lit this fire in me. Her courage, her honesty, and the comfort she found through her own Death Doula showed me what is possible when we dare to face death with open eyes and open hearts. I carry that lesson with me every day.

So yes, I may be a modern-day hippie—but I am also a guide, a listener, a witness, and an advocate for dying well. My purpose is simple yet profound: to bring compassion where there is fear, presence where there is silence, and understanding where there is uncertainty. Because in the end, death is not something to run from—it’s something to honour. And it is through that honouring that we truly learn how to live.

Aging Gracefully- Is there Such A Thing?

Aging gracefully is a profoundly personal journey, shaped by one’s perspective on what “gracefully” truly signifies. According to Google, to age gracefully means “in an attractively elegant way.” For many in the elderly generation, this translates to a desire for independence and the ability to embrace changes without reliance on others. In contrast, younger generations may view aging gracefully as simply using night cream to fend off wrinkles. While I admit that skincare is not my forte, my focus is on the deeper essence of aging gracefully. As someone who works closely with the elderly and their families, I strive to understand and respect the dignity and beauty that comes with this phase of life, recognizing the strength and resilience that shine through their experiences.

As children witness their parents growing older, the image of their once-heroic figures—strong and confident—begins to fade. It often starts subtly, perhaps with a light-hearted remark as they ask for help getting up from the ground, jokingly questioning, “How come they made down so far away?” This humor can mask a deeper concern as they begin to share more about their health and the increasingly frequented doctor appointments.

The realization of change can unfold gradually or hit hard and fast, depending on the circumstances. It’s essential to remember that your loved ones have their own feelings, desires, and needs—just like you do. However, they may experience these changes differently. Their needs will evolve with time, so it’s crucial to engage in open conversations with them, asking how they feel about these transitions and how they envision moving forward together.

Trading In The Old For The New -Tools

Aging gracefully brings along a new set of accessories that many of us may not embrace with open arms. These additions often emerge after significant events, such as relying on a walker after a fall, using a cane for support post-surgery, or needing a new toilet seat when getting up becomes a challenge. While it may seem straightforward to caregivers, to someone who has experienced a loss of independence, such changes can feel overwhelming. It’s crucial to sit down and talk with your loved one about these new aids in their life. Reassuring them that they remain just as valuable and cherished as ever, despite the need for these supports, can make a world of difference.

Explaining to a loved one that aging does not diminish their dignity is important; rather, they have the power to define what dignity means to them, and the family is here to support them in every possible way to honor that vision.

Oftentimes, inviting your loved one to join a social program with others who share similar experiences can provide a comforting space for them to embrace their new reality. It also offers the wonderful opportunity to forge meaningful friendships with people who truly understand and empathize with their journey through shared experiences. Often times these social groups leads to people exchanging new life hacks they’ve figured out. Sometimes being in an able body, one doesn’t realize the trials and tribulations that come with the Golden years.

Speaking with your local CLSC about the resources they offer can be incredibly helpful. Many CLSCs are dedicated to assisting your loved one by providing the necessary accessories, often at little to no cost, and ensuring that they receive the support they truly deserve.

Other Side of the Coin

There is always another perspective to consider, where children may feel hesitant about their parents fully embracing new changes in their surroundings, as this can lead to emotional and physical struggles later on. I have witnessed this in many homes, where kids express a desire for their living rooms to remain just that—a living space filled with warmth and memories, rather than a place associated with difficult moments like when Mom, Dad, or Nana became unwell or passed away.

It’s not uncommon for families to encourage their loved ones to use their leg muscles as much as possible to help maintain muscle mass and promote healthy blood flow. While it’s essential to support your parent’s health and well-being, it’s equally important to be attuned to their body’s needs. If they struggle to reach the bathroom in time, it’s worth reflecting on how that can affect their dignity and comfort.

Can they make it to the bathroom in time, or are they too far away to reach it without accidents? Are they able to navigate the length of the house on their own without risking their safety? These are important and sensitive questions to reflect on, particularly when a loved one is living independently.

Adding a commode chair to the living room can truly create a comforting haven—you gain so much convenience while easing the worry of those long trips to the bathroom! It’s essential to remember that having this option doesn’t mean we have to give up the classic toilet trips we hold dear. Moreover, relocating the bedroom downstairs can significantly minimize the risk of a sudden tumble down the stairs. This space should be their sanctuary, and it’s our responsibility to ensure it remains a soothing refuge. After all, who wouldn’t appreciate having their living room double as a secondary bathroom option? Your cherished memories are precious, and enhancing quality of life sometimes means providing bathroom solutions that simply make sense. Rooms can be rearranged and rearranged back. The comfort and dignity of your loved one should always take priority over any preconceived societal expectations.

The Pros and Cons Of Retirement Homes

It’s a poignant aspect of North American culture, this notion of retirement homes. Many cultures honor the elderly by keeping them close to family, ensuring they’re cared for around the clock. In North America, however, the hustle and bustle of career-driven lives can sometimes make it challenging to live alongside our aging relatives. A dear friend of mine recently shared some insights that reminded me of the delicate nuances we often overlook as children when considering the best options for our loved ones in their golden years.

The scenario he presented to me was deeply thought-provoking. An aging individual touring these homes often doesn’t view them through the same lens as a younger person might. Consider, for instance, this stunning new retirement community near my hometown. It has been beautifully renovated, complete with a pool, golf simulator, theater, and hair salon—essentially resembling an 80’s mall. While these features may appear delightful and aspirational for those in good health, the reality can feel quite different from an elderly person’s standpoint. Imagine a passionate swimmer or golfer who can no longer engage in their favorite activities. Think of someone who adores playing BINGO but has lost their hearing, walking past the BINGO hall, longing to participate but unable to hear the calls. As younger individuals, we sometimes fail to appreciate this perspective. The thought of leaving the comfort and safety of their beloved home for an unfamiliar place may not seem as glamorous as we envision.

Some of the heartfelt benefits of residing in a retirement home include the reassuring care provided by dedicated staff. Imagine no longer having to worry about house cleaning or the daily task of deciding what to cook for dinner. Relinquishing control over these responsibilities allows retirees precious time to engage and socialize, which is crucial. Many seniors find themselves among the last of their family or friends, making it essential to foster new connections. Forming friendships can be challenging at any age, especially after childhood, but being surrounded by others who share similar experiences often leads to meaningful conversations and the development of bonds. This can make the long days, which might otherwise feel isolating, feel more connected and fulfilling.

Becoming a Burden

Getting older can be incredibly challenging. It’s a journey filled with struggles as one faces the loss of mobility, senses, and independence. What often goes unspoken is the heavy feeling of being a burden. This sensation can weigh heavily, affecting not just personal relationships but also the connection with caretakers and medical teams, leading to a profound sense of guilt and helplessness.

So many times during a conversation with an older person, their main concern centers around the intense fear of being a burden to their loved ones. The loss of their senses and mobility can leave them feeling incredibly vulnerable and dependent on others, which is a heavy emotional weight to carry. When someone starts to feel like a burden, it can be genuinely heartbreaking, often leading them to withdraw emotionally. They frequently struggle to ask for help with simple tasks like repositioning, changing clothes, or even taking bathroom breaks, which only adds to their sense of isolation. Furthermore, the anxiety of potentially being seen as a burden to their medical team can intensify their feelings of worry. They may fear that their experiences will be downplayed or not fully understood, which deepens their sense of helplessness. This painful cycle can lead to a breakdown in communication, exacerbating their health issues and leaving them feeling even more alone in their journey.

The most important part of the entire process is open, compassionate communication. It’s essential that when someone asks for your opinion on a procedure or path, they feel understood and supported in expressing their own wants and feelings first. If you provide your thoughts before they have shared theirs, it might unintentionally influence their decision, even if your intentions are good. Encourage your loved ones to articulate their feelings and thoughts on the subject before you share your own thoughts. Additionally, ensuring that they have a death plan in place is crucial for honoring their wishes. It’s important to recognize that receiving traumatic news can overwhelm someone’s emotions about that topic. By helping them establish a foundation of feelings before difficult events arise, you can truly show respect and care during their time of need.

The Reals of It

Sitting down and discussing death can often feel uncomfortable, as if we’re inviting the grim reaper to our doorstep the moment we utter the word “death” – imagine the chilling sounds from a scary movie in the background. Yet, by easing the stigma surrounding the topic of dying, we can create a more open and safe space for our loved ones to share their fears and experiences related to aging. It is vital that you, or someone close to you, understands what aging gracefully means to them. This understanding helps clarify which life-saving measures they wish to pursue, or perhaps forego. One essential point to reflect on is recognizing your limits as well. Consider what kind of support you can truly offer your loved ones as they navigate their aging process. How much time are you willing to dedicate—would you be prepared to spend 5 to 7 days a week in this role? Are you comfortable with tasks such as changing a colostomy bag or adult diapers? It’s important to think about whether you can be their rock in moments of crisis or if you prefer to play a behind-the-scenes supportive role.

Talking about death plans can serve as a gentle invitation to engage in these challenging discussions. Often, those who shy away from conversations about death may also be the ones who haven’t taken the time to reflect on it themselves. They might not have confronted the difficult questions regarding their preferences, including the medical interventions they may want or wish to avoid. By showing that you are open-hearted and ready to listen, you create a safe space for them to explore these thoughts. While it may not resolve everything instantly, it can plant a seed for future reflection; when the time comes, they might feel better equipped to share their feelings and make their wishes known.

Patience is truly essential during these challenging times. If you are reading this and find yourself caring for a loved one whose wishes may not be clearly expressed, remember that some insurance companies provide a form for their clients to outline their medical intervention preferences when applying for life insurance. Exploring these documents might offer you some comfort and clarity. Best of luck on your journey, and take the time to discover what aging gracefully means for you and your loved one.

To conclude and address the question of whether aging gracefully truly exists, I must share a candid perspective. Societal norms may not provide the comforting answers we seek, as the journey of aging can be challenging and, at times, daunting. However, I encourage you to take the time to define what “gracefully” means for you, your loved ones, and your community. My hope is that I have illuminated some of the potential obstacles, the wide range of emotions that accompany this process, and perhaps even sparked ideas and reflections that you had not considered before.

Remember, be kind to yourself like you would be to your best friend, you do live with yourself the longest.

Good Grief

Is there such thing as good grief?

Come with me as share my journey through the recent losses I’ve experienced, my thoughts on death and grief, a hopefully a little insight into where I can hopefully take my business in the future.

One thing I have heard a lot lately is that everyone grieves differently. Some people shut down, some cry inconsolably, some turn to humor, some turn to memories to fill the gap left, while others turn to unhealthy coping methods. It’s essential to recognize and respect the unique ways in which individuals process grief. Each person’s emotional response is shaped by their personality, past experiences, and support system. For some, retreating into solitude provides a necessary space for reflection, while others find solace in sharing memories and stories with loved ones. Try and remember to be mindful of how others grieve. Nothing helps grief more than love, acceptance and time.

Nanny

I have been so blessed in my life to have been to very few funerals, and even fewer funerals of close family members. This has since unfortunately changed. In October of 2023 I lost my favorite person on the planet, my grandma who we lovingly dubbed Nanny. She was funny, loving and had a great sense of humor. She always made sure she listened to everything you said, she made sure you felt loved.

One of my favorite memories of her is when I was a little kid she would secretly give me a loonie ( a Canadian dollar coin) and say not to tell my sister. I felt so special, I would wait all day until we piled into the car and I would whip out my loonie to instigate a fight with my younger sister. Except, she too would be whipping out her loonie. She would always say that I was her favorite Kylla, which is funny because I also heard her say this to all the grandchildren using their names as to make sure we all knew we were her favorites.

Last year, we received the devastating news that she had cancer. The diagnosis indicated that it was already in a later stage, but the doctors offered hope, assuring us that treatment could potentially extend her life. Despite this glimmer of hope, I found it challenging to keep in touch as much as I knew I should. The thought of hearing her voice, filled with defeat and sadness, became unbearable. I couldn’t bear the idea of her sensing our own sorrow, and I regret not reaching out more frequently.

She had always been so concerned about my sister and me, and knowing that weighed heavily on her mind was both heartwarming and frightening. The last thing I wanted was to disappoint her. But in the face of such heartache and impending loss, I found myself at a loss for words. What do you say to someone who holds such a special place in your heart, knowing that their time is limited? How do you express the depth of your love and gratitude, while also conveying the pain of the imminent separation?

As I grappled with these questions, I realized that the most important thing is to speak from the heart. It’s not about finding the perfect words or having all the answers. It’s about sharing your love, expressing your gratitude for the impact they’ve had on your life, and assuring them that they will always hold a cherished place in your heart. It’s a time for reassurance, for sharing treasured memories, and for creating more moments of connection, however brief they may be.

She took a turn for the worse late last 2023 and died on a Monday in October. I giggle cause we would talk about how much we hated Mondays, they were the worst day seconded by Sunday. It was my first death experience, I had never been with anyone who has passed. I was so blessed that it was hers, she was there my first day and I was there for her last.

Grandma Sue

All while this is happening with my Nanny, my other grandmother, Grandma Zoo (Sue) was diagnosed with a rare throat cancer. Grandma Zoo was spunky, listened to amazing music and loved to sew. Grandma Sue and I weren’t the closest, it was only when I had my children that she came to visit me and would check in more regularly. I visited with her between Christmas and New Year of 2022 and realized she really wasn’t doing well. With her living three and a half hours away our family felt helpless until we were able to help her move closer. It was then that I was able to spend priceless quality time with her. I watched her fix sewing machines like it was nothing, we sat and talked or just enjoyed companionable silence. It was harder for her to talk, slower to get her sentences out as the throat cancer had advanced so quickly, for she decided against any sort of treatment.

I was able to take the time to ask her all the questions I could think of. I was able to ask her the questions that make people cringe, like how do you want to die? Are you afraid of dying? Do you feel like you are leaving with regrets? She answered all my questions and reflected some back to me, if she didn’t have an answer for me that time she would later message me with her final thoughts on the subject. We managed to talk through her fears of dying as her thoughts on the afterlife and if there was one.

When she passed away in January the only thing we couldn’t manage to check off her list was the date in which she died as she passed one day earlier than she wanted. I know without a doubt that while she wanted to go on a specific date, she is not upset that she went one day earlier, as she was surrounded by the ones she loved with no regrets. One day before she was able to send messages to people conveying her love and gratitude for them being in her life and to say goodbye. She was gifted something so rare, something thought about and wished upon by so many. Isn’t that beautiful?

Through my recent experience with death, I’ve discovered that humor is my method of grieving. I use jokes to bring a smile to people’s faces. While grieving, it’s important to find the silver lining, the small moments in your day that bring you joy. I never expected my coping mechanism to be humor. I was certain that I would spiral into anorexia or depression. It turns out, I’m much stronger than I thought. Yes, I shed many tears. I should have invested in a tissue company with the number of times I’ve wiped away tears or blown my nose.

I leaned into the sadness, I leaned into the happiness. I made sure to sit down and really be in the present moment and really feel my feelings. All the while knowing the feeling will pass, as my Nanny always said, “This too shall pass”. In leaning into all the feelings I was feeling in the moment I was able to really go through them and move onto the next phase of my grieving process. I can now smile when I think of them instead of tearing up, I am getting there.

I once saw this video on grief, it was able to explain grief better than anything I’ve ever read or seen. Every time I thought I was about to go off that deep end, because even though you lean into the feelings and know they too shall pass there are darker moments. When I felt like I was sliding into those moments I thought about this video. It made me realize there isn’t necessarily and end to grief, but an end to sad all consuming grief. What is left at the end is good grief, it does exist, it is out there, just give yourself love, surround yourself with a great support system, and time.

Next Steps

Going through all this, I’ve realized that while being a Life Coach is a dream of mine, I now know what my purpose is; being an End Of Life Doula calls to my soul. Helping people and their families through these hard times is my calling. Making sure that people who are at the end stages of their lives are listened to and ensuring they have someone they can talk to without prejudice is essential. Sometimes having a nonbiased partisan in the room when such difficult topics are discussed among family members helps everyone involved. Not everyone grieves the same way, not everyone can mentally prepare the same way.

I also realized that there is a lack in my region of people who are there before, during, and after for the families of the deceased. Once I am able to complete my education in making this dream real, I have so many ideas on how to help my community through such hard times.

There is no right way to grieve (with healthy coping mechanisms). Everyone’s journey through grief looks different and doesn’t have the same time line. Give yourself the time you need, the space you need, seek help if you are unable to cope in a way that doesn’t hurt you physically or mentally. Thank you so much for reading through my post. I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to sit with me and read some of my experiences. Remember to eat something today. Don’t forget to treat yourself like you would your best friend. You are you best friend as you live with you the longest. You deserve it.