Judy's Love Letter

08/20/2026

Beautiful thoughts...💜

I am often asked why someone is taking so long to die, especially when they have gone days without food or water, they are no longer responsive, and with or without medications, they have settled into their dying process while everyone waits. Sometimes impatiently.

I will say to them, “the body knows what to do, and we need to trust that.” I believe this, and it can usually comfort those at the bedside who are waiting day after day, exhausted, sometimes frustrated, and in many ways have put their grief on hold because it has become too hard to sit with those emotions day after day. They continue waiting, trusting the process, knowing that their person will eventually let go and find peace.

But sometimes they cannot accept this answer and they struggle with the “why?” This is when I share my thoughts, which goes to a deeper, more emotional, or spiritual place. You see, I have a theory that when someone is dying, there is a certain sense of awareness they still have, and before they can truly let go, they need to make peace with their past, perhaps let go of some guilt or regret, but also, I think they need to say goodbye to the life they had. This takes time, especially if they are in their eighties or nineties, that is a lot of life to say goodbye too.

But what about the younger ones, those who die way too soon, who don’t have a long life to say goodbye too, what are they holding on for? Why are they taking so long? This one is harder to answer, and sadly, I have witnessed this many times. Perhaps they are trying to make peace with having less time, finding gratitude for the life they did have, while also savoring life just a little bit longer, even if not fully present for it.

I was speaking to a man whose mother held on for many days. Ten days prior to her death, I told him she could let go in a matter of hours or days, neither could be predicted, but I honestly thought it would be hours. I spoke with him every single day, and despite the length of time this was taking, he welcomed my thoughts, and embraced the idea that she needed time to reflect. We decided that this waiting period was a soul review, an opportunity to revisit the past, finding purpose in the life she lived, the choices she made, and the people she loves.

I imagine them doing an anointing of sorts for their body, thanking it for everything it did for them…
Their brain for their thoughts, creativity, decisions.
Their eyes for all they have seen.
Their mouth for the words they have expressed.
Their heart for the love they have given, and the love they have received.
Their arms for the hugs they have welcomed and those that they extended.
Their hands for the work they have done, and the comfort they have provided.
Their legs and their feet for holding them up and supporting them.

And once they have finished their soul review, extending gratitude for a life they were gifted, and making peace with their last goodbye, they can finally let go.

The truth is though, and I continue to stand by this as well, the body does know what to do. We can intervene with medications to reduce symptoms and suffering, and we can provide verbal and tactile stimuli for comfort, support, and a feeling of safety, but at the end of the day, the timing of when the body finally let’s go, is not about us. And that is what we must find a way to make peace with.

xo
Gabby

08/20/2026

I am going to be offering grief yoga in the near future at Willow Roots in Ashland, KY. Please stay tuned...
In the meantime, if you are interested in yoga, please join me on your mat!

07/27/2026

💜

A reflection on end-of-life care…

There is something I wish more people understood about hospice and end-of-life care.

When someone receives a terminal diagnosis and hospice is suggested, it is because the disease process is already unfolding in ways that medicine can no longer stop or reverse. By the time someone begins receiving end-of-life care, their body has already begun the work of letting go.

We cannot change the outcome, none of us holds that power. Our role, whether we are a member of the hospice team, end-of-life doulas, caregivers, or family members sitting quietly at the bedside, is to advocate, to comfort, and to reduce suffering wherever we can. We ease pain, calm symptoms, listen closely, and tend to the physical, emotional and spiritual weight that often arrives in these moments. Sometimes, when comfort replaces crisis, people are gifted a little more time, which no one could have predicted, but time is never something we can promise.

In this work, we are not the driver of the bus. The course of the illness is not ours to control. Instead, we sit beside the passenger and make sure they are not traveling alone. We show up with presence, with care, and with love.

My hope for every person who is dying is that they are cared for well, that they feel seen and held, and that their landing is soft. At the end of the day, I truly believe that anyone who is providing end-of-life care has this goal in mind.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

07/21/2026

I'm excited to announce I am currently taking a course about becoming a grief coach, to add to my career of being an end-of-life doula! Stay tuned...💜

06/14/2026

💜

Some of the most common fears I hear from those at the bedside after a death are these:
"I didn’t do enough."
"I should have been there more."
"I should have stayed longer."
"I should have known what to say, what to do, how to make it better."

When we read or hear things afterward about end-of-life care, it is almost impossible not to think, "why didn’t I do that?"

Learning after the fact does not mean you failed before it. It simply means you are human, doing the best you could with the tools, knowledge, and strength you had at the time.

Sitting at the bedside, especially for the first time, comes with uncertainty, fear, and impossible decisions.
You gave medications even when it scared you.
You didn't give medications because they scared you.
You fed them because you thought it was right.
You stopped feeding and carried the weight of that choice.
You stepped out of the room, and they took their last breath.

You showed up when you could, advocated when you knew how, trusted others when you needed help, and loved in the ways available to you. None of this is a flaw. These doubts and second-guessing yourself are not signs that you did something wrong; they are signs that you cared deeply.

You don’t have to have all the answers to get this right. Even those of us with experience still question ourselves at certain bedsides. What matters most is that you showed up with your heart, that you tried, and that you loved. That was enough.

Remember this: you did everything you possibly could. You did the best that you could with what you knew, what you had, and who you were in that moment, and you showed up, that is the gift.

Do not compare your story to someone else’s or second-guess what you gave. This was never a competition or a test of self-worth. It isn’t about what others might have done or how you think you should have done it. It is about what you did, and that you were there, and to the person in that bed, that was everything.

And if this was your first time caring for someone at the end of their life, and you learned something that may help you show up differently for someone else someday, or allows you to offer wisdom to a friend walking this path, then what you did here mattered in another way too. You grew. You evolved. We continue to do better, and that is what matters.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

05/11/2026

💜

Grief equals deep love. We grieve hard because we love hard! If love is holy then so is grief.

It is in my bones!

My Garden of Grief