They say when you experience deep grief, you find yourself. Your truth north is formed. I’m not sure if that is right but it might explain my calling to be a Death Doula. Or as my good friend told me, “You are not a doula, you are a Diva…claim it”.  That makes me giggle. I succumbed to this invisible push and signed up for certification training just before my brother-in-law was told he had advanced cancer. He became my practicum to which he took his last breath shortly after I graduated. I learned a lot and since his passing a year ago, I have had opportunities to practice my new skill. It has been bittersweet learning as they have all been close friends.

The biggest lesson I have learned is that no one wants to talk about death until it is too late. I have a friend who kept procrastinating the conversation and now she isn’t cognizant to have a meaningful one.  Discussions about death are hard but necessary. It includes the answers to obvious questions; do I want to be resuscitated, cremated, or buried etc. But the questions that I feel are as important, if not more, are the ones about after-life. Is it ok to keep some of the ashes for memory jewelry? What specifics do you want at your funeral? What do you want us to do to honor and remember you?  My brother-in-law had us promise, among a few other things, that there would always be pineapple torte eaten on his birthday.  These answers from our loved one, before they depart, bring us solace when they do die. It gives credence to the fact that we are doing the right thing for them.  There are fewer regrets. It is why these conversations are essential but sadly, seldom had to the degree they deserve.

The next lesson is all about anticipatory grief. When one is dying, we begin grieving.  And grief brings out the best and the worst in a person. I have been snapped at, cried on, and asked to do a multitude of mundane tasks.  I was asked to be at home or at the hospital and then told to get out. I have seen families split apart over the details of care and after-life desires. Anticipatory grief is grieving without the comfort of shock.  It is raw and ugly. And no one escapes it. It includes judging, blaming, assumptions and irrationality. It is the hardest part of this new role when I want everyone to be ok but that is impossible.  

The third lesson I have learned (in this early journey I am on) is that self-care becomes a stranger. You wish to be with your loved one every second. The sounds and disturbances of a hospital or home care create an environment that does not compute rest for those sitting next to their loved one. Showers, meals, and routine go out the window fast. Adrenaline is the ingredient that keeps you going.

It was 11:00 am when I was buying tea for a friend who had been with his partner all night.  The young cashier looked at me and asked, “have you had breakfast?” I said, “what do you mean?” He said, “iced tea at 11:00 am…did you eat or is this your breakfast and probably your lunch?” I stopped to think.  No, he was wrong, but I appreciated his thoughtfulness. And the reminder that we must care for ourselves so that we can fully care for our loved ones.

I value this new role of death diva. I want to help, to be there as a source of comfort in whatever way I can. It is a privilege to be a part of readying one to travel to the other realm, to listen to their needs and to assure them that we will fulfill their hopes and dreams as best we can and support their family and friends left behind. It brings peace to both parties. The dying feel sanctioned that their last wishes are respected. Those left behind are empowered knowing, not guessing, what their loved one wants. It is the foundation to enable you to carry your grief better, in the confirmation that you are doing what your loved one requested.  That is my highest and most valuable message as I explore this path towards my north star.