Answering an Unexpected Call

My father became a death doula at age 71, although he would never have called himself that. After unexpectedly surviving a particularly intense 5-valve heart surgery, he concluded there must be a purpose for his life. As a WWII veteran, he volunteered as a welfare officer for his local Shellhole (gathering place for old soldiers). He told me that everything he had done in his life had prepared him for this time and that this was the fulfillment of his life’s mission. Sometimes, he would leave his lunch half-eaten and jump up from the table with a sudden urge to go to the local hospital. Invariably, he would find some terminally ill person being admitted. He would befriend the family, take his turn holding vigil at the bedside, guide the bereft spouse through the bewildering aftermath of loss, and help make funeral arrangements. Once a year, he would take his group of mostly widows out for tea, stay in touch, and make sure they found their feet as they learned to navigate the path of the one left behind.

When Dad made his transition some 13 years later, my mother was holding his right hand while I held the left. When Mom passed more than 20 years after Dad, I was at her side to bear witness and make sure she was not alone.

Now, we are in a world at war on so many levels—death is a daily reality that affects all of us. Together with colleagues, I have embraced the opportunity to take an eight-week Death Doula course—not that I am planning to change my career path, but you just never know when someone may require that kind of companioning. Or when a grieving friend may need support. In this world of thinning veils and growing portals of transition, I want to know that I am as well equipped as possible to serve those on my path—and to consciously prepare for my own inevitable passing one day. A good and loving death is just as important to me as a good and loving life.

The world is calling for a heart-centred response to the many threats that face humanity—climate change, wars, extremism, and criminality. I know that the answer is love, but how do I express that love? This course is girding me with armour and preparing me to serve— though I know not whom or when. Helping people to overcome fear, including their fear of death, is my response to the world’s cry for help. This is my expression of love.