09/08/2026
I’ve been asked many times what a death doula is and why I feel so deeply called to this work.
After having a near-death experience when I was younger, I came back with answers I couldn’t explain and questions I didn’t know how to ask.
I grew up in a small town where religion was taught and followed by most—or, at the very least, everyone showed up at church and acted as if it were. For a long time, I kept what I had experienced to myself. I felt different, almost as if I had returned to a dream everyone else believed was completely real.
That feeling followed me into my thirties. Then, at 33, something changed. Maybe it was an awakening, or maybe my frontal lobe finally developed. 😂
Death began coming to the forefront—not in a dark or frightening way, but as a reminder to live.
Eventually, that calling led me to become a death doula. Since then, I’ve had the sacred privilege of holding space for many people at the end of their lives.
Being present for someone’s homecoming changes you.
At the end, the things we spend so much time chasing and worrying about begin to fall away. Status doesn’t matter. Pride doesn’t matter. The arguments we were determined to win don’t matter.
What matters is whether we loved, whether we allowed ourselves to be loved, and whether we truly experienced the life we were given.
Joy matters. Peace matters. Love matters.
Not because life will always be easy, but because our time here is far too precious to sleepwalk through it. We silly humans forget how quickly this experience moves. We get caught up in responsibilities, worries, and everything we think we need to accomplish, and we forget to be present for the life happening right in front of us.
I recently found myself forgetting again. Such a silly goose. 😂
So I stopped. I became still, took a breath, and remembered what this work has shown me again and again: there is still breath in my chest. My eyes opened today. I have another opportunity to be present, experience joy, offer love, and make peace with being human.
And so do you.
How lucky are we?
Because when everything else falls away, all that remains is love.
Just a perspective from a death doula who is still learning how to live, too.