Death Coach

Sometimes life just knocks the wind out of you. You’re going along, doing your best, and then—bam—a diagnosis you never saw coming. Cancer. ALS. Some other illness that steals your breath and breaks your heart. And you’re left staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m. asking the only question that makes any sense: “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” Here’s the truth: you didn’t do anything to deserve this. Somewhere along the way, we picked up this terrible idea that when bad things happen, especially devastating things like disease or terminal illness, it must mean God is angry with us. That God is keeping score, tallying up our failures, and handing out suffering like a punishment we somehow earned. But that is not who God is. Life has hard parts. Disease, pain, suffering—they are part of being human. They are part of living in a world where bodies are fragile and time is finite. Illness doesn’t arrive because you failed some spiritual test or because you’re less worthy of love, grace, o...

  I want to talk about something that most people don’t realize until it’s too late. The dying are still living. That’s right. That person in the hospital bed, hospice room of the friend who just got the terminal diagnosis. They’re not gone yet. They’re not a ghost of who they were. They haven’t crossed over. They’re still here. Breathing. Laughing. Crying. Remembering. Dreaming. Living. And too often, we forget. We start speaking about them in the past tense. We whisper in hallways. We tiptoe around their emotions. We make decisions  for  them instead of  with  them. Sometimes we disappear altogether because we don’t know what to say or how to act. But let me tell you something that years of walking with the dying has taught me: the last chapter of a person’s life can still be rich, beautiful, full of meaning. I’ve watched a woman dying of cancer laugh so hard she cried. I’ve seen reconciliations that should’ve happened 30 years ago finally take place. I’ve see...

"What do you mean you’re a death doach? Death Doula? I’ve heard of birth doula’s, but what does a death doula do?"  I get this. It’s new and confusing.  Let me use this blog over the next couple of days to explain exactly what I do.  I walk people home. That’s the simplest way I can say what I do. I companion people—both the dying and those who love them—through one of life’s most profound transitions. My work is rooted in compassion, clarity, and presence. I help people die well, and I help communities grieve and remember well. I do this through one-on-one coaching, bedside companionship, spiritual teaching, end-of-life planning, writing, and the sacred ritual of celebration-of-life services. Over the course of 40+ years, I’ve had the privilege of walking with thousands of people as they prepare to say goodbye, either by facing their own mortality or sitting beside someone they love. I’ve stood at hospital bedsides. I’ve wept beside hospice chairs. I’ve led more tha...

 I want to talk with you today about how to die peacefully. That’s one of the deepest purposes of my work. As a Death Coach I companion people—both the dying and those who love them—through the final transition of life. My hope is always that death might come with peace. Not fear. Not chaos. But stillness. Grace. Ease. And I’ve come to believe this: Peace comes when we learn to let go. Now, that might sound strange—especially in a culture that teaches us to fight. We fight illness. We fight aging. We fight for every last breath. And in many ways, that fight is understandable. After all, life is precious. And letting go of it? That’s no small thing. But here’s the truth: The people I’ve seen die the most peacefully are the ones who stop fighting. They let go. Not because they’ve given up. Not because they’re weak. But because they’ve made peace with what is. Here’s the hard reality— You can resist death with everything you’ve got. You can rage against it. You can throw eve...

  What Not to Say After Someone Dies People say all kinds of hurtful things. Some folks grope for words in the midst of grief and sorrow and trip all over their tongues. They end up saying something hurtful—sometimes deeply so. And it’s doubly painful when the ones who say these things are the very people we look to for comfort. If you’re reading this and preparing to be with someone who is dying—or supporting someone who has lost a loved one—please,  watch your tongue . Over the years, I’ve heard people say terrible things to those who are grieving. Let me walk you through some of the worst, so you can avoid doubling down on someone’s sorrow and instead offer genuine care. If you’re the one who’s dying, I don’t need to tell you that people will say all kinds of ridiculous things to you. They don’t know what to say when someone’s lost their hair, sixty pounds, and is suffering from chemo. Instead of simply sitting in silence with you, they fill the space with small talk. They’...

                                                                   The Worst Way to Die & Thoughts on Legacy Quick—off the top of your head—what’s the worst way to die? For me, it’s either by fire or drowning. The other night, I accidentally set my hand on a hot stove burner. The pain was instant and intense. It made me think of the martyrs of various religions, and I just thought, “Nope. I couldn’t do it.” Once, while rafting, I fell out and got sucked under a rapid. I was tossed around like I was in a washing machine. As I started running out of breath, I thought, “I really don’t want to die this way.” Luckily, I popped out, shot to the surface, and gasped for air like it was gold. Come to think of it, I don’t want to die in a plane crash either. That slow, terrifying moment of descen...