My story

Like many death doulas, and others who answer a calling, I have an ‘origin story’. My moment of conscious awareness of a calling to deathwork came on a snowy evening in 2014 when I sat with my dying father in palliative care. He was not what we think of as conscious and had not eaten or spoken for several days. He became agitated and began flailing and crying out. Pulling at the sheets and grasping for things I could not see. He seemed upset and certainly I was. Both on his behalf and my own - because I did not know what was happening or what to do. I found a nurse who said she would call the doctor about upping one of his medications. Then she left us. A volunteer materialized in the room and asked if she could sit with him. And me. I said yes as I wanted to help and had no idea how. She sat quietly with her face close to his and matched her breathing to his. His was quick and shallow and uneven. She slowly calmed her breathing and his breath and body slowly calmed as well.

I had a double flash of insight. First, there was a better way to do this dying business that no-one had told me about. And second, I could do this.

As I reflected on my drive home that night, the concept of a death doula came to my mind. I had a friend who was a birth doula, and I could immediately see the parallels. I felt it deep in my being. A sort of alignment. I thought I had invented the idea – a not-unusual notion for death doulas as I later discovered! I went online and discovered not only had I not invented it but there was a rich and growing and fascinating community out there walking this path. And so began my deliberate inquiry into how I could be of service to the dying, the dead, and their loved ones.

I have been following that calling ever since. Seeking ways to give myself and others what I did not have when my dad was dying. My father has continued to be a teacher for me in this. In life, he taught me about composting – something that for me epitomizes pretty much everything about life and death and re-birth! And in death, while his funeral service left me cold, the family after-party was one of the most glorious and moving events of my life. I feel him close sometimes when I am engaged in this work.

The path has been winding, with a few bits of big life stuff along the way. My development as a death doula has built on the personal exploration and emotional healing work I was already immersed in – including the Life-Between-Lives hypnotherapy series as developed by the  Michael Newton Institute, which was literally life-changing. I joined the Victoria Holistic Deathcare Community, pursued training and networking, and found events and a community of like-minded folks. I read so many books about death and dying. I trained and volunteered on the Palliative Care unit where my dad had spent his last days - and met the volunteer who had helped us both that night. I ‘apprenticed’ with a local colleague, and formed a creative collaboration with two others.

I came to realize that there had been signs of this inclination much earlier in my life. My love of reading obituaries and memoirs. My preference for funerals over weddings. My adoration of the film Harold and Maude. And a tender unexpected afternoon when I advocated, in a completely un-formal capacity, for an elderly friend of my mother-in-law who did not want yet another hospital admission and treatment for pneumonia - in that moment I witnessed how everyone but the dying one was unwilling to talk about what was happening and how that can so easily lead to not honouring their wishes.

My personal practices and self-care regime have deepened along the way - walking, gardening, Pilates, Yoga, breathwork, Reiki, acupuncture, Hellerwork, meditation, time near water, and reading all help to sustain me. As does my abundant life as a mother, spouse, grandmother, aunt, sister, cousin, daughter, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, mentor and friend. Blessed be!