Services
I tend the quiet spaces where care, fear, love, and hope intersect.
With gentle presence and compassionate guidance, I help create environments where choices are honored, stories are held, and every stage of the journey feels supported.
Aging, illness, dying, and grief aren’t four separate events.
Aging, illness, dying, and grief aren’t four separate events. They’re one long stretch of time. And most families get handed off to somebody new at every turn. New nurse. New aide. New social worker. Nobody who was there in March is there in September.
I’m the one who stays.
You might meet me when your mother starts missing appointments and you’re trying to figure out how bad it is. Or the week hospice comes in. Or three months after the funeral, when everyone else has stopped calling. You can start anywhere on that line, and you can stop anywhere on it.
I’m a former hospice nurse. I spent the 1990s at the bedside. That’s what I bring into your house, and it’s why I tend to see the bumps in the road before they get here.
Everything below is non-medical. I don’t bathe, toilet, or give medications. I watch, I explain, I help you get ready, and I say the thing out loud that nobody in the family wants to say first.
Much of it works over video too, if you’re the daughter four states away.
Advance Care Planning & Healthcare Directives
Honoring Your Voice, Even When You Cannot Speak
Facing conversations about future medical choices can feel intimidating, overwhelming, or even frightening. And yet, when these decisions are made in advance – and when they reflect your values, hopes, and boundaries – there is a profound sense of peace that follows.
Here is how I can help:
Explain the purpose and significance of healthcare directives in accessible, supportive language.
Explore your values, priorities, and what “quality of life” means to you.
Help you reflect on the medical interventions you may or may not want.
Assist you in completing your Advance Care Directives (Living Will) with clarity and accuracy.
Elder Care Doula Support
You call your mom on Sunday and she tells you she’s fine.
She says that every Sunday. She said it the week she stopped driving at night and didn’t mention it. She said it after the fall in the bathroom you found out about six weeks later, from your brother.
You live two states away. You have no idea if fine is true, and asking harder questions over the phone just makes her defensive.
That’s most of the families who call me. The other half are people aging on their own, with no adult children nearby and no one obvious to sit in on a cardiology appointment and remember what was said. If that’s you, you already know the real worry isn’t loneliness. It’s who’s going to advocate for you when you can’t.
Here’s What I Do About It
I visit, on a schedule, and the schedule doesn’t change
Same day, same time, every week. Not a rotating aide, not whoever’s available. Me. Over a few months your mom stops treating me like company and starts telling me things.
That’s not a nice extra. That’s the whole mechanism. She’ll tell me she’s been skipping lunch. She’ll tell me she’s scared to use the shower. She won’t tell you, because she’s protecting you, and she isn’t protecting me.
We go places
Wherever she still wants to go and can’t get to on her own. [The diner, the cemetery on her husband’s birthday, the garden center in May, church.] Getting out of the house is not an activity. It’s the difference between a woman who has a life and a woman who has a schedule of care.
I go to the appointments
I sit in the room. I write down what the doctor actually said, not what everybody thought they heard. I ask the question she’s too polite to ask and the one she forgot she wanted to ask, and I get the answer in words a person can use.
I’ll also make sure the pillbox matches what the doctor prescribed, and that nobody has her on two things that shouldn’t be in the same week. I don’t hand her the pills. That’s not my job and I’ll say so out loud. But I’ll notice when something isn’t right.
You get a real report
Not “she’s doing fine.”
You get: she made it up the porch steps but she used the rail both ways, which is new. She’s wearing the same cardigan I saw her in last Tuesday. There are four unopened bills on the counter. She talked about your dad twice, which she hasn’t done since spring.
That’s what I send you. You decide what it means and what to do about it. But you’ll never again find out six weeks late. I do give your loved one a chance to tell you things first. It helps us build trust, and if the agreed upon time comes and goes, I will be the one to let you know.
And when it turns into the last chapter
I already know her. I know how she takes her coffee and what she’s afraid of and what she said she wanted back when nobody thought it was urgent.
You’re not starting over with a stranger on the worst week of your life.
What I don’t do
No bathing, no toileting, no giving medications. I’m not a home health aide and I won’t pretend to be one. If that’s what your mom needs, I’ll tell you straight and help you find it.
End-of-Life Doula Support
A Steady, Compassionate Presence During Life’s Most Tender Transition
Preparing for end-of-life can stir a wide range of emotions: fear, uncertainty, sadness, hope, love, even moments of unexpected clarity. It is a time when hearts feel vulnerable and the world can feel unbearably fragile. Many families describe feeling overwhelmed by decisions.
As an End-of-Life Doula I offer unhurried time, unwavering presence, and tender guidance through holistic, non-medical support that honors the emotional, spiritual, and practical needs of every person involved.
Compassionate Presence & Emotional Support
Provide consistent, peaceful companionship at bedside. Offer a listening ear for fears, hopes, reflections, or unfinished stories.
Guidance Through the Dying Process
Explain what to expect in natural, gentle language. Honor the client’s values, preferences, and end-of-life choices.
Bedside Vigil & Transition Support
Offer continuous presence during the active dying phase. Create a comforting atmosphere and hold space for a peaceful transition.
After-Death Support
Provide gentle guidance on what happens next. Support loved ones in early grief with resources, listening, and compassionate presence.
Grief Companioning
A compassionate, steady presence for those walking through loss.
I provide compassionate, steady companionship for those walking through loss. Grief has no timeline and no single shape, and my work honors its timing, pacing, and deeply personal nature. This is not about “moving on” or reaching a finish line… it’s about being accompanied, so the weight of loss doesn’t have to be carried alone.
Six Compassion-Based Sessions
This is tender, emotionally attuned support built on trust and presence over time. Companionship is offered through six compassion-based sessions, tailored to each person and typically including:
A Validating, Judgment-Free Space ~ Whatever surfaces is welcome here. I offer steady, nonjudgmental presence for the full range of grief, without rushing or redirecting what you feel.
Rituals & Meaning-Making ~ Thoughtful practices that honor your loss and the love behind it, creating space for remembrance and continued connection.
Normalization of Grief Responses ~ Gentle reassurance that the waves of emotion, memory, and physical response are a natural part of loss, so they feel less frightening and more understood.
Space to Share ~ Room for stories, tears, questions, and memories, held at your own pace and on your own terms.
Grief Education & Gentle Guidance ~ Clarifying, unhurried support to help make sense of what you’re moving through, drawing on an understanding of how grief tends to move and change.