When I sit at the bedside of someone who is actively dying, and there is no one else in the room… I feel a sense of peace. The quiet does not bother me, it comforts me. The knowledge that this person will soon take their last breath does not frighten me, it reminds me how fragile and precious life is and that these moments are simply a part of life.

If I have only just met this person, and we had never been gifted any conversation, I sit and imagine a life they might have lived. I hold hope in my heart that theirs was a life well lived, they that felt love, and never felt pain or fear. I look out into the vast universe and I ask that it please make the journey gentle, soft and beautiful as I believe all human beings deserve… but this one especially, as they are, aside from my presence, dying alone. And after I have witnessed their last breath, I whisper in their ear what an honor it was to be there for them.

If I shared conversation with them before, if I had already met the family and friends and I have felt the love that filled the room, I sit in quiet and I embrace all that love and I feel such gratitude that their life was full, that they did feel love and they are not feeling pain or fear. And I think to myself, what an honor it was to be there.

There is not one bedside that I have ever sat, where I did not feel blessed for being there. Knowing in my heart that I am present for such a personal and intimate moment fills me up in ways that are almost difficult to explain. Death is permanent, it is final… those last breaths are the very last ones this person will ever take, and I was there. I do not take this role lightly, and I do not disrespect the energy in the room by making it about me.

And after those last breaths are taken and the family member walks me to the door, I struggle with having to leave. I feel like there is so much more I can do, but I understand that it is time, and the family needs to start their grieving process. There are hugs, long, tight hugs, that follow with tears almost every time. And they look at me, eyes filled with tears, and say, “thank you.” What they don’t realize is that it is me who should be thanking them, so I smile, I pause for a moment, and I say, “the honor was truly mine.”

Have you been called to become a sacred passage end-of-life doula?