The Death Doula course I am taking recommends actions that help reduce the trauma that often accompanies death. They produced a one-page checklist for people who are dying. As a caregiver, you can be an important support for one who has to make difficult decisions. I thought I would pass the checklist along to you. This document is not copyrighted so you can print and copy it if it would be helpful. One-Page Checklist: Legal and Financial Steps When You Know You Are Dying Th

In 1983, to celebrate our marriage, Lee and I planted a small pin oak. Our Welsh pony, Porsche, was not impressed. Over the years, we watched it grow. In 2002, the tree was assaulted by a black bear. We repaired the damage, and the tree survived. In 2006, we sold the property to move closer to our health care team. In 2018, the new property owners invited us to return to see the improvements they had made. We took a moment to celebrate our tree.

Acknowledge the reality of death. The first need of mourning involves gently confronting the reality that someone you care about will never physically come back into your life again. Embrace the pain of loss. Acknowledging the experience of loss plays a key role in the mourning process, although there is often an inclination to avoid or minimize feelings of grief. Facing these emotions can help individuals come to terms with their loss. Remember the Person who died. When som

Healing at the end of life does not always mean a cure; it means easing distress, honoring the person’s wishes, and making room for peace, dignity, prayer, memories, and love. A caregiver can create a healing atmosphere for someone who is dying by making the space feel calm, safe, and loving. Soft lighting, familiar music, gentle touch, favorite blankets, and quiet voices can help reduce fear and bring comfort. Take time away from caregiving tasks to share treasured memories

People assume that when we look sad, forget to return phone calls, or don’t show up at social events, that we are grieving the loss of the person we loved. The truth is that we grieve: The voice that we will not hear again The way they made us feel safe The inside jokes only we understood The empty chair at the dining room table The advice they gave when we didn’t know what to do The routines we shared without thinking The challenges that caused us to rethink our opin

In Buddhist teaching, every virtue has a far enemy and a near enemy. Think of virtue as our ideal self, the way we want to be. The far enemy is the obvious opposite: cruelty is the far enemy of compassion, hatred is the far enemy of loving-kindness, and jealousy is the far enemy of joy. The near enemy is more subtle because it looks like the virtue but quietly distorts it. Pity may look like compassion, attachment may look like love, and indifference may look like calm accept

Some mornings rise without a song, the chair is still, the room feels wrong, and all the strength you thought was there has slipped away like evening air. You do not have to run today, or chase the ache and tears away. Just breathe, just stand, just face the dawn, and keep on keepin’ on. Grief feels like weakness in your bones; As love struggles to walk alone. Let sorrow speak, but when it’s done, lift your eyes toward the sun. When faith feels faint and hope seems gone, God

For a dying person, optimism and faith can overlap, but they are not the same. Optimism says, “Maybe things will get better.” It looks toward a hoped-for outcome—more time, less pain, a treatment that works, one more good day. Optimism can be a beautiful gift, but it is often tied to circumstances. If the body keeps declining, optimism may become harder to hold. When optimism slips away, the dying person may feel the weight of reality more fully. The hope for recovery, more

As our nation celebrates freedom, I find myself thinking about a different kind of freedom. There is freedom in saying the words that matter most: “I love you”. “Thank You.” “Forgive me.” “I Forgive you.” Four words that mean so much to the people who we will leave behind. There is freedom in setting down old burdens that have become too heavy to carry. There is freedom in accepting help from those who love you and allowing them the privilege of caring for you. You ma

The Fourth of July is a day of celebration. Flags wave, families gather, children laugh, and fireworks explode. There are picnics, community celebrations, parades, and in some churches, special worship services. Yet for many widows, myself included, this is a day of loneliness. Lee was a veteran, and we celebrated Memorial Day and the Fourth of July. In our motorcycle days, we put a pop-up tent in the Bushtec (trailer), and packed a picnic supper in the cooler. We were off to

Anxiety about the future, or regret over current and past struggles, can make caregiving even more difficult. Ongoing stress can activate the sympathetic nervous system—the fight, flight, or freeze response—leaving us feeling tense, overwhelmed, or on edge. To gain more control, we need to reinforce the parasympathetic nervous system. There are many ways to accomplish this, but the simplest is the sensory grounding technique: 5-4-3-2-1. Start by taking three deep, cleansing

For those of us who are in our senior years or are facing the end of life due to illness, the last stage of life offers a choice: Integrity vs. Despair. We need to be meaningful in the lives of those we love and care for, even as our capabilities are diminished. We are no longer able to climb a ladder to change the battery in the smoke detector or stand on a step stool to reach the upper shelves in our kitchen cabinets. And, often, the need for assistance increases until we b

Ten years ago, I was gifted with an African violet by a friend whose office was closing. I cherished this violet for its unique, light lavender flowers. Last year, the violet developed root rot. I needed to discard it. Before I did, I clipped a healthy-looking leaf, dipped it in rooting powder, and placed it in a small pot. This year I noticed a few small leaves forming at the base of the leaf. This week, the plant rewarded me with a bloom and more fresh, healthy-looking leav

Sometimes when I feel like I can’t go on, I look at my cat. Nothing gets in her way. If she wants to climb, she climbs. If she wants to sleep, she curls up. It is so helpful to remember that we will go on, we will do what we need to do, we will grow into the tasks at hand.

One of the joys of growing old is watching our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren grow and thrive. I am blessed to have four children, seven grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. A few weeks ago, I wrote this poem to share the life lessons I want to teach them. I’ve walked the path you’ve yet to walk Learned lessons old and new. The wisdom that I’ve learned in life I’m blessed to share with you. Hold fast to your convictions, Let truth be your steady lig

It’s ambushing, the way it sneaks up on you. Important dates can be anticipated. You know to brace for impact. Even certain places, their places, can be avoided on particularly difficult days, when the air is thick with ache. As time goes on, yo can learn where some of the pain hides. Grief never leaves completely; you just get better at hurting. It never gets easier; you just get on with half a heart. I’m told that I’ll be stronger because of it, but that’s hard for me to b

When Lee and I were first married, he encouraged me to have my hair done each week. It was one of the gentle ways he cared for me, and I cherished that small space of time that was just my own. As the end of his life approached, he made me promise that I would keep going every week. I still do, and I still treasure that simple act of care. During the years of his progressive illness, my understanding of pampering changed. At the suggestion of our hospice social worker, we hi

Several years before Lee’s health began to deteriorate, we signed up with our local funeral home to complete the funeral arrangements for both of us. After making the business arrangements, we were given a booklet that encouraged us to record our personal information to make it easier for our families when we passed away. I still have my copy and update it from time to time. Today, I found a free online version of this notebook that can be completed on a computer. It was cre

After the death of your spouse, “moving forward” can sound impossible—or even wrong—especially in the early days when simply getting through a morning takes courage. Moving forward does not mean you have “gotten over” the loss of your husband or wife. It means that, little by little, you begin to find a way to live in this new reality: discovering new approaches to old problems, learning how to carry love in different forms, and honoring the one you lost by continuing to live