Doula
Doule For End Of Life
Mariya – Lisa’s Aunt
A death doula is a trained professional who assists in the dying process, like how a birth doula helps with the beginning of life. They provide emotional, spiritual, and physical support to both the dying individual and their family, helping to create a meaningful and personalized end-of-life experience.
As Lisa and her mom entered the funeral home she said with a tinge of sadness and broke the silence. “It’s hard to believe she’s gone,” she said. “I keep expecting her to open her eyes, give us her infectious smile and raise her hands for a warm embrace.”
Her mom with tears in her eyes, always thinking of taking care of everything for her sister said, “What do we do for her service and funeral.”
Her voice carried a mix of emotions, including anger, as she said, “I just spoke to the cousin. He told us we could go; they’ve got it all handled and we’ll be sent an invite to the burial and service just like everyone else.”
Lisa added “I feel that we need to figure out how to honor Aunt Mariya’s memory in a way that does her justice.”
Her mother’s embrace offered Lisa the comfort she needed. “We’ll figure it out together, sweetheart,” her mother reassured her. “Aunt Mariya deserves a beautiful send-off, and we’ll make sure she gets it.”
Lisa was taken aback with the strength her mom was showing, compared to the emotional turmoil she was exhibiting.
Lisa’s cousin and his wife, always keen on maintaining a high social standing, choose to hire an end-of-life planning doula.
Despite their intentions of self-promotion, everything about Aunt Mariya’s funeral was handled beautifully and with great care, thanks to the end-of-life planning doula they hired. Lisa observed that the arrangements were not only impeccably executed but also paid thoughtful homage to her aunt, incorporating her favorite flowers and personal touches she would have cherished.
She said to her mom as they walked towards her cousin at the funeral, “I think Aunt Mariya would like to see me and her son bury the hatchet today.” Lisa decided that she would talk to her cousin to express her condolences, and she visualized giving him a hug as she approached him.
His reply was vividly typical, dripping with finality, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”
Her mother’s understanding was a balm to Lisa’s disappointment. “Sometimes people grieve in different ways,” she reminded Lisa, offering perspective amidst the frustration. “What matters is that we honor Aunt Mariya’s memory with love and respect.”
As the service concluded, Lisa, with her mother by her side, stepped into the sunlight, a sense of peace and closure enveloping her. “You did it, Mom. You made her last years’ worth living.”
Her mom responded “No honey! We did! Without you I couldn’t have done any of it!”
Lisa said to her mom as they got in the car, “At least they were willing to spend the money, no matter what their motives. I was worried that it would end up being just the two of us for the funeral. I am so glad for Aunt Mariya that they stepped up. The doula really knew what she was doing, making sure Aunt Mariya’s wishes were considered for the service and funeral.”
“Never judge honey,” said her mom lovingly, “Judgement of others is a confession of our own character – That was one of Aunt Mariya’s favorite sayings anytime I talked negative about someone.”
A good sendoff is different for everyone, Lisa and her mom shared with each other as they drove away from the funeral home.
Honoring Aunt Eliza
Zora, Daphne, and Eliza’s Story
Zora and her mother, Daphne, were enjoying their weekly Sunday brunch when the phone rang. Daphne answered, and her face fell as she listened to the voice on the other end. Zora knew something was terribly wrong.
“Mom, what happened?” Zora asked, her heart racing.
“It’s Eliza,” Daphne said, tears welling up. “She’s gone.”
Zora felt the ground drop from under her. Aunt Eliza had always been a constant source of joy and support in her life. She couldn’t imagine a world without her infectious laughter and warm hugs.
The days that followed blurred in a haze of grief and planning. Daphne’s brother took charge of the funeral arrangements from another state, leaving Zora and Daphne feeling sidelined. Determined to honor Eliza in their own way, they searched for a more personal way to say goodbye.
On the day of the funeral, Zora and Daphne arrived early at the church, a beautiful old building with stained glass windows and wooden pews. Walking inside, Zora felt a wave of nostalgia.
“I used to come here with Aunt Eliza,” she whispered. “She loved this place.”
Daphne nodded, her eyes filled with tears. “She did. She always said it felt like home.”
They took their seats in the front row, surrounded by family and friends. The atmosphere was heavy with grief, yet filled with love and respect for Eliza. Her cousin had organized the service and hired an end-of-life doula to handle the details. Zora had been skeptical, but as the service began, she saw the care and thought that had gone into it.
The doula had created a memory board, displaying photos that spanned Eliza’s life—from her adventurous youth to her serene later years. It was a visual journey through her life, filled with moments of joy, laughter, and love. People smiled through their tears as they shared stories and memories, feeling Eliza’s presence in every detail.
This thoughtful arrangement showed that the doula had truly taken the time to understand Eliza’s personality, her passions, and her wishes for this final celebration of her life.
As the service ended, Zora felt a sense of peace. She turned to her mother and said, “Aunt Eliza would have loved this. It was perfect.”
Daphne smiled through her tears. “Yes, it was. She would be so proud.”
After the service, Zora felt a strong urge to connect with her cousin, who had organized everything. With a mixture of apprehension and determination, she approached him. “Hey, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all the effort you put into today. It really meant a lot to us.”
Her cousin looked at her, a hint of surprise in his eyes, then softened. “Thanks, Zora. I’m glad it turned out well. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but today was about Eliza.”
Zora felt a sense of relief wash over her. “Yes, it was. And you did a great job.”
Walking back to her mother, Zora felt lighter. “That was hard, but I’m glad I did it,” she said.
Daphne hugged her tightly. “I’m proud of you. It’s important to come together, especially for Eliza.”
They got into the car and drove away, reflecting on the day. Zora looked out the window, feeling a mix of emotions. “You know, Mom, I’m really grateful they organized such a meaningful service. It truly honored Aunt Eliza’s spirit.”
Daphne nodded, her gaze distant yet warm. “Eliza always believed in the importance of family and unity. She’d be happy to see us like this.”
As they continued their drive, they felt a deep connection to Aunt Eliza and to each other, knowing they had honored her memory in the most heartfelt way possible.
Farewell to Aunt Sylvia
Amanda, Diane, and Sylvia’s Story
Amanda received the call about Aunt Sylvia’s passing late one evening while she was preparing dinner. Her mother, Diane, had been at Sylvia’s bedside for weeks, and Amanda had been anxiously awaiting news. When Diane’s number flashed on her phone, Amanda’s heart skipped a beat.
“Mom, is everything okay?” Amanda asked, her voice trembling.
Diane’s voice was heavy with grief. “Sylvia passed away an hour ago. She went peacefully.”
Amanda felt a mix of sorrow and relief. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
The next morning, Amanda drove to her mother’s house. They spent the day sorting through Sylvia’s belongings, reminiscing about the good times they had shared. Diane’s brother had taken charge of the funeral arrangements, and Amanda and Diane felt somewhat excluded from the process.
“He said they’ve got everything under control and we’ll just be guests,” Diane explained, frustration evident in her voice.
Amanda sighed. “We need to find our own way to honor Aunt Sylvia.”
“We will,” Diane promised. “Sylvia deserves a proper goodbye, and we’ll make sure it’s done with love.”
On the day of the funeral, Amanda and Diane arrived at the chapel early. The atmosphere was somber, but there was also a sense of celebration for Sylvia’s life. Her uncle had hired an end-of-life doula to plan the service, and Amanda was impressed with the thoughtful details that had been included.
The doula had incorporated Sylvia’s favorite flowers, music, and even some of her artwork. It was clear that a lot of care had gone into the arrangements, and Amanda felt a sense of peace knowing that Sylvia was being honored in a way that reflected her personality.
As the service began, Amanda held her mother’s hand tightly. They listened to heartfelt eulogies, shared memories, and celebrated Sylvia’s life. When it was over, Amanda turned to her mother and said, “Aunt Sylvia would have loved this. It was perfect.”
Diane smiled through her tears. “Yes, it was. She would be so proud.”
After the service, Amanda knew it was time to mend fences with her uncle. She approached him with a mix of nervousness and determination. “Thank you for everything you did for Aunt Sylvia,” she said. “And I’m sorry for any past conflicts.”
Her uncle looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Amanda. I appreciate that.”
It wasn’t a perfect reconciliation, but it was a start. Amanda felt a sense of relief as she walked back to her mother. “I’m glad I talked to him,” she said.
Diane hugged her tightly. “I’m proud of you. And remember, it’s not about who did what. It’s about the love we showed Sylvia.”
As they left the chapel and walked into the bright afternoon sun, Amanda felt a sense of closure. “We did right by her,” she said, holding her mother’s hand.
“Yes, we did,” Diane agreed. “She would be happy to see us together like this.”
They got into the car and drove away, feeling a deep connection to Aunt Sylvia and to each other. “At least they made sure she had a beautiful send-off,” Amanda said. “The doula really captured her essence.”
Diane nodded. “Sylvia always said, ‘Understanding others starts with understanding ourselves.’ She’d be proud of us today.”
As they drove away, they felt a deep connection to Aunt Sylvia, knowing they had honored her memory with grace and love.
