When Death Comes to Call

It’s that time of year once again (my favorite), when nature reminds us of the importance of

balance, that there comes a time when our focus must turn inward for rest and rejuvenation.

The critters know it, plants know it, trees know it. There is value in slowing down, doing less.

Society emphasizes productivity, but not all productivity is created equal. We are raised to

believe we must always be moving forward, on the go, completing checklists and multi-step

itineraries. But when does this maniacal propulsion allow for recharging one’s battery? For

noticing details? Appreciating the process? Life only truly works when there is balance. For

every in, an out. Every up, a down. Every movement, a stillness. Our bodies and minds

instinctively know and understand this; our brains are conditioned to perceive being still as

doing nothing. This could not be further from the truth.

As we age, slowing down comes naturally. Yet many try to fight this natural progression. It isn’t

until the end of life, for many, that we come to realize the fulfillment one can achieve by

honoring the body and mind’s desire to take life at a slower pace. We believe, instead, that if

we just keep moving at a hectic pace, we will outwit Time.

We won’t.

Time stops for us all, and in many ways, it’s up to us how it will find us. There is a belief among

my community of end-of-life doulas that how we live is how we die. And while I cannot speak

for anyone else, that was certainly true of my own parents. My mother was chaos personified; I

never knew who I was going to interact with at any given moment. And she died unexpectedly

and suddenly. Without warning. One minute she was alive, the next she was lying lifeless at the

bottom of the stair case, an arm stretched out as if to break her fall. My father, who early in life

gave up on his dreams because they would take more effort than he cared to exert,

experienced a stroke. After several weeks of rehab and struggle, he said to me, “I don’t want to

do this anymore.” And he died. Indeed, they died as they lived.

I’m sure there are exceptions to this rule, but think about your own loved ones who have died.

Did they go kicking and screaming? Did they pass with dignity and acceptance? Were they bitter

and resentful, or did they face death with grace and appreciation of the life they were given? Of

course, there are people who die instantly, under tragic circumstances. But the majority of you

reading this post will die of one disorder or another. You may have days, weeks, months, where

you can feel yourself fading gradually. What would you like those days to look like? Do you

want to “get your house in order” as they say, or will you be happy to leave everything behind

as is, for others to sort out? Do you want to visit with friends and family, or be left alone? Are

there loose ends you’d like to tie up? Wrongs you’d like to right? Would you like to leave a

legacy of some kind?

These are thought-provoking questions, not to be answered indiscriminately or on a whim.

They require careful consideration and realistic expectations. This is where an end-of-life doula

can be of great service. We know it’s a time of preparation. For some, it is a time of great loss as

you acknowledge the things you could/should have done but didn’t. For others, it is merely

closure on your lifelong journey, a chance to put it all to rest as you live out your final days.

We’re all different, and we’re all the same. Wherever you fall on the continuum, death doulas

can help you make the most of your life as it comes to a close. We honor your wishes, your

choices, your perspective. It’s all about you.

Grieving Loss: As Much for Life as It Is for Death

For many of us, the world feels like it’s on fire right now. Everywhere we turn, our values and beliefs (as well as our rights) are being trampled to death by people who could not care less how profoundly  individuals suffer and struggle. Bully pulpit leaders who lack compassion and grace have become the norm, and our lives are being re-shaped by the constant chaos.

Individually and collectively, many of us are in a perpetual state of grieving as we try to make sense of this new society we find ourselves living in. And grief is an exhausting, messy business. Don’t kid yourself into believing that grief only applies to loss due to death; there are many types of grief, and I almost guarantee you are experiencing at least one of them.

For those of us who did not elect into power the current federal administration, we began experiencing anticipatory grief last November. We didn’t know what losses awaited us, but we knew for certain there would be a cost to the results of the 2024 presidential election. We wake up each day, dreading the headlines and stories of what new fresh hell we were relegated to overnight.

Some might be experiencing common grief, which is defined as an acceptance of loss that allows us to fulfill our daily duties, but not without difficulty.

Others may already understand that what they’re feeling is complicated grief, which persists over an extended period of time and interferes with carrying out regular, daily routines and activities.

Disenfranchised grief is what we may be experiencing because there are folks out there who feel that the events of the past 100+ days are to be celebrated. They don’t recognize that for many of us, the direction our country is headed is reason to grieve. In other words, our grief is considered invalid.

Depending on your circumstances, you may be dealing with inhibited grief as you try to suppress your feelings and just carry on with life as if the struggle isn’t real.

Cumulative grief builds when one experiences multiple losses simultaneously. For some of us, we are losing our jobs at the same time as we are watching loved ones be deported and/or relegated to second-class citizenship status. Maybe a medical study we were participating in has lost its funding, and we now have to live with the dire consequences of that. And in the background, we know that regulations that keep the earth’s natural resources safe are being stripped away. Organizations that keep us safe from extreme weather are being dismantled just in time for extreme weather season, further diminishing our ability to keep our families safe.

And we all are familiar with collective grief thanks to the COVID pandemic. Many of us lost loved ones to the virus. But even if you didn’t, you lost your freedom to attend school, eat out at restaurants, gather in groups. Every dimension of life was attacked and impaired by the pandemic. And while we have managed to return to a version of normalcy, the “new” normal imposed by this administration favors only a miniscule fraction of our country’s population. The rest of us are just left to figure it out and deal with it. As a community, we grieve.

There are other forms of grief, but you get the idea. So now what?

Each of us handles grief differently, and what “works” for some doesn’t work for others. Therapy/counseling is never a bad idea, but it requires time and money and a willingness to dig deep and feel the feels. If that sounds like too much for you at the moment, self-care in the form of meditation, yoga, exercise, or something that takes you outside your mind even for a short time can help. Make music. Make love. Make food. Make art. Make peace.

See a theme? Make! Create something! Plant seedlings to transplant later in the spring (hopeful!). Try your hand at journaling, or collaging, or painting. These outlets are often avenues toward processing your grief, and they can provide relief in both the short- and long-term.

Another option is to volunteer doing something you enjoy. Helping others often ends up benefiting you just as much as those you aim to help. It forces you to shift your thinking to focus on other people or on animals or the environment, or whatever. The important thing here is just to do something, even if you lack the energy and intent. Local grassroots organizations always need another set of hands.

I am in the process of building a Resources page on my Passages site, so check back there soon. In the meantime, don’t forget to exhale. And know this: You are not alone.