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...