In today’s world, we’ve grown distant from the natural rhythm of life—and its end. There was a time when death was not hidden away, but gently woven into the fabric of our everyday lives. Families cared for their elders at home, and children grew up seeing love expressed through that care. They learned, by watching, how to honor life in all its stages.

A grandchild might have watched their grandmother move into the family home, seen the tenderness with which she was held in her final days, and come to understand that death, while deeply sorrowful, is also a sacred part of life. In those moments, wisdom passed naturally from one generation to the next.

But now, more often than not, we shield our young ones from death. We try to protect them from pain, but in doing so, we also protect them from understanding. From presence. From the quiet beauty that can live even in goodbye.

In our effort to avoid the deep emotions that come with death, we’ve built a kind of sterile silence around it—a place where death exists, but is rarely spoken of. We all know it will touch our lives, yet we shy away from the conversation. And so, denial takes root.

We rush through life, barely pausing, until something brings us to a sudden stop—a diagnosis, a loss—and we find ourselves unprepared. Emotions rise like a tidal wave, overwhelming us and those we love, and we’re left not knowing how to navigate the storm.

As doulas, we offer a steady presence in those moments. We create a space where it feels safe to speak the unspoken, to feel the depths of fear and sorrow, and to begin to transform them. We walk beside others, not to fix, but to hold—to witness—and to remind them they are not alone.

Let us remember and reclaim the sacred tradition of caring for our own at the end of life. Whether that care happens in the warmth of a home, within a hospital, or in a care facility, what truly matters is the presence we bring—the love, the stillness, the unwavering support.

As end-of-life doulas, we walk beside the dying and their loved ones, holding space, offering strength, and honoring the unique journey of each soul. We don’t replace anyone—we complement the care of family, friends, hospice, and palliative teams. We are there to uplift, to advocate, to help shape what a “good death” can look and feel like.

Let’s raise our collective awareness. No one should have to face death in isolation. We are stronger together. Let’s walk this path, heart to heart, hand in hand, as a community rooted in compassion and presence.

So what did bring you here?

Take a moment to pause and reflect on how you arrived in this very moment. For me, it was a gentle unfolding—a series of synchronicities that seemed to guide me here with quiet wisdom. Synchronicities are those moments when unrelated events weave together in the most unlikely ways, yet they carry a deep and personal meaning, as if the universe itself is whispering, “This is meant for you.”

At the heart of it all lies the truth of our interconnectedness—that we are not separate, but one. These moments are laced with the mysterious and the miraculous, reminding us that we are part of something far greater, something sacred and beautifully whole.

I believe we carry within us an ancient longing for community—a deep, soul-rooted desire to belong, to contribute, and to be part of something greater than ourselves. Each of us has a role to play in the sacred tapestry of togetherness. When we live in alignment with that role, something inside us awakens. Our soul begins to sing its true song.

In Native American tradition, there are Sacred Fire Keepers—guardians of flame and spirit, who have for generations tended the fire as a source of healing, connection, and remembrance. The fire becomes a living circle of medicine, a symbol of unity among the living and those who have crossed over. It invites us to feel grounded, open, and deeply connected.

As doulas, we too are called to be Sacred Fire Keepers of the heart. We tend an inner flame—a fire in the belly that draws us toward this work like moths to light. It is the place where presence meets purpose, and where compassion becomes our offering.

And perhaps most profoundly, we are here to weave together a NEW OLD FAMILY—to remember and revive the wisdom of those who came before, and to pass it forward, heart to heart. In doing so, we bring the old ways full circle, not as relics of the past, but as living truths reborn in us today.

Death is a mystery that we will someday solve. It is one of life's most sacred and potent passages. We are invited as we consider death to consider that the peace we have long sought has always been within us. It's sort of life Glenda telling Dorothy that she always had the ability to go home.

Death is our final act. As with birth, we have always known how to do it.

Why We Answer the Call: Reflections for Death Doula Students

As you begin or deepen your path as a death doula, it’s worth pausing to reflect on the instinctual call that led you here. The following stories and reflections have been written in the voices of those who, like you, felt a pull toward this sacred work. May they affirm your path, inspire your practice, and help you articulate your own "why."

Personal Calling & Inner Pull

"I didn’t choose this work – it chose me."
There was never a moment of doubt. Something deep inside told me I was meant to do this, even before I knew what a death doula was. It felt like remembering something I already knew.

"I’ve always felt most alive in conversations others avoid."
Death doesn’t scare me—it fascinates me. The honesty, the vulnerability, the raw beauty of it. I instinctively lean in when others pull away.

Personal Experience with Death

"My mother’s death changed everything."
She died in a hospital, alone and afraid, and it haunts me to this day. I became a death doula because no one should have to leave this world without dignity, comfort, and love.

"I held my brother’s hand as he took his last breath."
That moment shattered me and shaped me. I saw how presence matters more than words, how silence can be a balm. After that, I knew: this is sacred work. I could do this for others.

Alignment with Values or Beliefs

"I see death as a spiritual transition, not an ending."
I was raised with the belief that the soul continues, that death is a doorway. Guiding someone through that threshold feels like walking them home.

"There’s too much fear around death."
We're not taught how to die. We're barely taught how to grieve. I’m here to help rewrite that narrative—to make death something we meet with peace, not panic.

Natural Talents & Traits

"People tell me I have a calming presence."
Even in emergencies, I stay grounded. It’s not something I force—it’s just who I am. Being a death doula lets me use that gift where it’s needed most.

"I’ve always known how to sit with hard things."
I don’t look away. When people are hurting or afraid, I stay. Becoming a death doula wasn’t a career move. It was a natural extension of who I’ve always been.

Desire to Be of Service

"I just want people to feel held."
This work isn’t about fixing or saving—it’s about being. Being present. Being kind. Being a quiet anchor when everything else is falling away.

"We prepare for birth with so much care. Why not death?"
Death deserves the same tenderness, attention, and reverence as birth. I feel called to help bring that balance into the world.

Life Transitions & Growth

"After my divorce, I reevaluated everything."
I had built a life that looked good on paper but left me hollow. Then I sat with a dying neighbor and something awakened in me. I realized this is what I was meant to do—with all my heart.

"I burned out in the corporate world. I needed something real."
I couldn’t keep going through the motions. Becoming a death doula brought me back to what really matters: connection, compassion, and truth.

Your Turn

As you continue your training, take time to write your own origin story. What pulled you toward this work? What moments shaped you? Your instincts matter. Your story matters. And your presence, more than anything, will be your most powerful tool.