They say trauma can be a catalyst for change, and in 2015, I experienced a loss that changed the entire trajectory of my life. I was in my mid-30s when my partner’s father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer.
Over the course of a year, we watched him decline. During one of our visits—one that seemed like any other—I unknowingly witnessed his final moments.
At the time, I knew nothing about death and dying. No one can predict someone’s last day, so I entered that visit thinking it was just another check-in.
But what I was actually witnessing was terminal agitation—a sign of pain or discomfort in the final stages of life.
Looking back, I now understand how crucial it is to listen to hospice nurses when they discuss medication and comfort care. Their guidance can make all the difference in ensuring a peaceful transition.
In that moment, I felt completely helpless. It wasn’t my father, and I had no idea what to do or say. I stood with everyone else, surrounding him with love, telling him it was okay to go.
When he died, I remember feeling torn between two worlds—his grieving children in the kitchen, shell-shocked into silence, and his wife and the nurse in the living room, carefully cleaning his body, her face heavy with sorrow.
I didn’t know where to go or how to help. But I made a vow in that moment: I would never again find myself in a situation where I didn’t know what to do.
I set out to learn everything I could about death and dying. I booked therapy, devoured research articles, watched videos, followed hospice nurses on social media, and eventually discovered the role of a Death Doula.
That’s when I signed up for a webinar with Suzanne O’Brien from the Doulagivers Institute.
The moment I learned about this work, I knew it was exactly what I had been searching for. I booked a one-on-one call with Suzanne, asked my questions, and the rest is history—I became a Death Doula.
This journey taught me something invaluable: We need to talk about death before it happens.
Having these conversations in advance can save us from unnecessary heartache and confusion when the time comes.
I know death is scary. I know it’s uncomfortable. But I create content and share stories like this because I’m not just talking to you—I’m speaking to the 35-year-old me who desperately needed this information.
So, do me a favor: Talk about it. Have the conversations now. Because one day, you’ll be grateful you did.
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