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“When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take a step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen: There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly.”
― Patrick Overton
Death and dying are frightening concepts for most people because change and the unknown can both be scary. My role is to try to make this time as filled with comfort and dignity as possible, by empowering the dying person to illuminate their authentic wishes and to express those wishes to their loved ones and caregivers so that we, as a team for the care of the dying, can help make those wishes as much of a reality as possible. My primary goal is to ensure “a good death” for my client, to ensure as little suffering for them as possible, with as much joy and beauty and pleasure as possible.
My place as a Sacred Passage Death Doula is not to judge or try to "fix" my client, or to lead them into or out of decisions they may be called upon to make. I can offer information about my areas of expertise or referrals if I am not educated about a particular topic (such as referring a client to clergy for matters of religious significance), but the client will ultimately make their own decisions. My place as a Death Doula is to tend the non-medical needs of the client from a holistic place which embraces five domains of life - mental, physical, spiritual, emotional, and practical.
Why Death Work?
“Anyone may have diamonds: An heirloom is an ornament of quite a different kind.”
– Elizabeth Aston
I was captivated by one of my beloved Gramma’s many rings from as far back as I can recall. The oval cabochon was the perfect blue of a late summer sky with a six-pointed star that shone only in the light, surrounded by a dozen tiny diamonds and set in dainty fourteen karat white gold. It’s a beautiful Lindy Star sapphire and I felt a pull to it, a kinship with that stone. When I was about seven years old, I asked if I could have it someday. Gramma laughed and said, “Someday,” and slipped it back onto her own finger, smiling.
I was 25 when Gramma gave me that ring, all unexpected one summer day. I’d dropped by on my way out of town for an impromptu visit with her, as I often would because her house was only about five minutes out of my way during that particular drive, and I could never drive nearby without feeling the tug of her on my heartstring. That day, she slipped it off her finger and gave it to me, and said, “This was always going to be yours, and I suppose now is as good a time as any.”
And I resisted, I said, “Keep it for me a while longer, Gramma.”
She shook her head (I know where I get my stubborn streak!) and insisted. “I want to see you enjoy it a while,” she said.
Well, how could I argue after that? Reluctantly, I accepted and thanked her and kissed her papery cheek, and pressed my forehead against hers in our old, old gesture of love.
The following spring, I held her hand as she passed away, in an ICU, connected to a machine for every bodily function. As her daughters gathered at her feet and sang, my sister and I locked eyes with each other and held Gramma’s hands, and I leaned down and whispered to her that it was okay to go, that we’d be okay. A few minutes later, Gramma died.
Over a decade later (and before I was a doula), I found myself providing respite care for a friend – she was a hospice nurse and her mother was dying. She and her sister were caring for their mom, but they were so very tired. I offered to sit with their dying mother while they ate dinner and took a break and took showers. I sat with this dying woman, the room permeated with the knowledge that Death was coming soon to escort her to the Afterlife, whatever awaits us there. And there wasn’t room for many words. So I held her hand and we simply sat mostly in silence, with my thumb stroking the back of her hand.
The next day, I knew I wanted to be a Death Doula. I began researching the profession though it was four years before I began the training. I spent that four years doing deep personal healing work for myself so that I can come to my clients from as cleansed of a spiritual and emotional place, with as much mindfulness and intentionality, as possible. This journey alters, challenges and humbles me in ways that I never expected.
Contact Me:
info@ajoyfulpassage.com
Call/Text - (720) 316-1525
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