My Journey to Being an End-of-Life Practitioner

After retiring from a 30-year public relations career, old friends often ask me what I’m up to. Without exception, they register surprise when I tell them I have become an end-of-life practitioner (ELP). When I explain to them the role of an ELP, they usually ask me how I can do this work. The simple answer is how can I not do this work.

How Death First Came Calling

As a child, I remember being curious about death and dying. I have always wanted to understand why things happened a certain way. I remember that when my friend’s goldfish died, they called me to dispose of it because I was able to do so when they couldn’t. Even then, I recognized the importance of ritual and said a few words before I reverently flushed it down the toilet.

When my maternal grandmother died, I was away at college and was overcome with grief that we never got to say goodbye. At her funeral, I recall looking at her as she lay peacefully in her coffin. Her body was present, but her essence was gone. Shortly afterwards, she began visiting me in my dreams where we continued our conversations. Her love lived on and we could say a proper goodbye.

From an early age, I was drawn to be of service to others. I volunteered in a psychiatric hospital. I tutored underserved children. I supported refugees by translating their heart-wrenching stories. I volunteered in a halfway house. So, when a college friend was close to death in another state, I flew there to be at her side and provide respite care. She was my first teacher about dying and the preciousness of our finite lives.

Saying Goodbye to My Parents

I am blessed to come from a family with longevity genes. However, when my parents entered their nineties, I knew that the clock was ticking.

The call that I had feared came on a Monday morning when my mother told me that my 91-year-old father was dying. Saying goodbye to my father was something I had known would come sooner than later. I knew this every time I hugged him goodbye.

I flew frantically from Orange County to Tucson to be at my father’s side. It was such a relief when he squeezed my hand acknowledging my presence. By the end of that day, he was moved to a hospice house surrounding him and us in its sweet embrace. There my mother and I spent hours playing music for him and sharing fond memories with him as we understood that hearing is the last sense to go. Within 24 hours, my father peacefully slipped away.

When I assisted my mother in making dad’s final arrangements, I didn’t imagine that in five years, I would take the very same steps for my mother. After suffering a severe stroke, my mother, then wheelchair bound moved to assisted living where she lived for four years. After a bout with pneumonia that exacerbated her COPD, she, too found her way to the same hospice house where she spent one night and gently passed in her sleep.

Their deaths were my first experiences with hospice. I truly believed that these caring people were angels. From the first moment in the door to the last, we were all enveloped in a blanket of comfort, love, and ease. I still have the candle that Casa de la Luz gave me in remembrance of my father.

A Difficult Goodbye

Two years later, out of the blue, my younger brother was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer and given days to live. I flew to Florida to find my brother suffering with his abrupt diagnosis. He was in the palliative care wing of a local hospital. Within a few hours of reaching his bedside, I was shocked to discover how extremely challenging it was to obtain any information on his prognosis. It wasn’t the first time that I found myself in the position of advocating for a loved one. Nevertheless, the frustration of our situation was beyond words.

I watched my brother going through various stages of dying which I understand now, but had no clue about then. It made being a witness all the more heartbreaking. What else could I do for him? Was he in pain? How could we help him be at peace? My questions literally went on and on.

After his death, I felt that more help should be available for the dying and their families. I stumbled on the role of the end-of-life doula. In that moment, I felt called to become one.

Training and Yet More Training 

My initial education as an end-of-life doula was through online training with INELDA in October 2020. Once the COVID pandemic permitted it, I began volunteering for a local hospice sitting vigil for patients and providing respite care. I gained additional skills through an online course in aromatherapy, training as a Reiki energy practitioner, and as a Yoga Nidra Graceful Transitions guided meditation provider.

I then dove deeply into this work through a year-long certification program as an end-of-life practitioner with The HeartWay, a non-profit serving the dying and their loved ones since 2008. This 600-hour program was equal to a graduate level course complete with academic rigor, reading literally thousands of pages, test taking, writing academic papers, researching community resources, and an internship program with clients and supervisory hours. During this time, I took on volunteering through both The HeartWay and a second hospice to ensure a breadth and depth of preparatory exploration.

This sacred work of holding space for the dying and their family nourishes my soul and informs my life about one golden truth. In the end, all that matters is love, the love we share and the love that we take with us when we leave this world.