The experience of being with my husband while he died was incredibly moving. It was heartbreaking and almost unbearable . . . and at the same time, it felt magical. I know magical may be a much more fanciful word than you were expecting in reference to death. I’m surprised to be using it, actually, and yet it feels accurate.
Being with Tom as he left this life felt momentous. I choose to believe that Tom still exists somewhere in some form and seeing myself as someone shepherding him into that next adventure felt like an honor. It was one of the most moving and special experiences of my life, and it filled me with a deep reverence for life itself. When I add up all these feelings in one word, I am left with magical.
For years, I’ve been captivated by the Ram Dass quote, “We’re all just walking each other home.” Being with my husband when he died felt like walking him home, being with him as he went to a place I couldn’t follow him to. Parting ways was heart wrenching, but the walk was a deep honor. Since then, I’ve felt such gentleness toward my fellow humans, recognizing that I am walking alongside them on their walk home, even if it’s just for a few moments. That realization makes every interaction feel special—and it is, I just didn’t always recognize that.
As someone who spent most of their life deeply fearing death, I was amazed to have such a powerfully positive experience with a loved one’s death. It was also tremendously devastating, leading to horrible anxiety and an intense grieving process that I expect will last until I die. The powerfully positive doesn’t cancel out the tremendously devastating. They exist simultaneously.
A few months after my husband’s death, I attended a grief support group in which one of the other participants mentioned being a death doula. I knew the term doula in reference to birth, but I had never heard of a death doula, so after the meeting, I googled it. I was intrigued.
Death doulas, also called end-of-life doulas, function much like birth doulas. Just as a birth doula shepherds a human into life, a death doula shepherds them out. Death doulas also support family members and loved ones in their grief. Death doulas can serve different functions for different clients, but it all boils down to being a supportive companion for a dying person and/or their loved ones. I immediately knew I was interested in being a death doula.
Last month, I started an 8-week course that will end with me being a certified death doula. What I most appreciate about the training is the constant reminder that people who are dying are still alive. Until a person is dead, they are alive and should be treated with all the respect we give the living. A lot of being a death doula is facilitating people living to their fullest for as long as they can.
Another important aspect of the work and one way we demonstrate respect for dying people is by being honest with them about their impending death. Instead of pussy-footing around the subject or sugar-coating it, death doulas talk openly with clients about pain, the process of dying, and death’s aftermath. If a client wants to know what death feels like, we tell them what we know rather than changing the subject. We support dying clients in having difficult conversations with their loved ones about what will happen after they die.
This is the kind of honest, straightforward talk I craved after my husband died.
I am also quite interested in working with people who do not have a terminal illness or any reason to believe their death is imminent but, like me, they want to get right with death, which in a lot of ways actually means getting right with the life you’ve lived and will live.
For me, recognizing the certainty that I will die and leave behind so many people that I love so crazy much inspires me to savor the deliciousness of every moment I have with them. It makes me see an afternoon nap not as a waste of time but as a delicious luxury, a few minutes of doing something just for the pleasure of it. It makes me a better listener. It reminds me that when I die, no one will remember me for how much I got done but for how I made them feel.