When a terminal diagnosis changes everything, I step in as your death doula — a steady, knowledgeable, deeply human presence — for the person who is dying and for every person surrounding them — so the time that remains is spent on what matters most.
Maybe you got a recent diagnosis, or suddenly a decline is no longer slow. Maybe you're using hospice and realizing — for the first time — how much they don't cover (I've written more on what non-medical hospice support means if you want a fuller picture).
Whatever brought you here, you're navigating something the healthcare system was not designed to help you with. The medical team does their part, hospice does theirs, and the gap between those — the questions nobody answered, the conversations nobody initiated, and the decisions nobody prepared you for — is where families spend some of their hardest hours.
That gap is where I work.
Reach out about End-of-Life Support. You were never meant to do this alone.

End-of-Life Support is flexible, personalized, deeply human doula support for families navigating active decline or terminal illness — for both the person who is dying and the people who love them.
I step in as the steady presence the conventional care system doesn't provide. Not a nurse. Not an attorney. Not a therapist. Something different — someone who sees the whole picture, speaks every language, and makes sure nobody falls through the gaps that every system inevitably leaves.
I translate between the medical team and the family. I explain what the dying process actually looks like — in plain, honest terms — so you're not left Googling symptoms at 2am trying to understand what's happening. I advocate for your loved one's wishes when those wishes need a voice. I help the family hold together when holding together feels nearly impossible.
And I show up. Not as a checklist or a protocol. As a person.
What is actually happening, medically and physically, in plain language. What the medications are doing and why. What the changes in breathing mean. What the death rattle is, and whether it causes pain. What to expect from hospice — and what hospice won't tell you unless you ask. The family that understands what is happening can stop trying to figure it out and start being present. That shift is one of the most important things this support makes possible.
Between the hospice nurse and the frightened spouse. Between the doctor's clinical language and the family's human questions. Between what was documented in the advance care plan and what is actually being honored in real time. I ask the questions the family doesn't know to ask, push back when pushing back is warranted, and make sure the person at the center of all of this is receiving care that genuinely reflects who they are.
Terminal illness surfaces everything. Old tensions, competing opinions about what should be done, family members who handle crisis differently — all of it arrives at once, in the hardest possible moment. I help families navigate the conflict and the complexity without losing sight of what matters most.
What the final hours and days can look like, and how to make them feel intentional rather than something that simply happens. Who should be present. What the environment should feel like. How to create a passage that reflects the person at the center of it.
Obituary and eulogy assistance. Celebration of life planning — work that can also grow into a full Life and Legacy Project if there's a story worth capturing more fully. The logistical pieces that need to happen and that nobody has the bandwidth to think clearly about when they're also trying to grieve.
After the death, I don't disappear. Grief support and resources are available for the family in the weeks that follow.

When my sister died, I wasn't in the room.
Not because I didn't want to be — because nobody told me honestly where my sister was in the dying process. Incomplete information kept me from understanding that the moment was close, and I needed to stay. After a month by her side, I missed it.
The loss of not being present because nobody told me the truth is why this service exists.
So now, I advocate for and educate other families. People who work with me won't miss the moment because nobody told them honestly what was happening. I use clear, compassionate, and plain language so you understand can can make decisions when they matter most.
End-of-Life Support is provided as a block of hours, allowing the flexibility a situation like this requires. Additional hours can be added as needed.
More accessible than standard session-based work — extended phone availability during daytime hours, with more flexible response times given the nature of what's happening.
I understand that this is not a situation that operates on a standard business schedule. I work within the reality of what you're navigating.
Primarily virtual, which means geographic distance is not a barrier. Remote vigil support is also available when in-person isn't possible.
Available after the death for the family.
Every engagement begins with an intake conversation so I can understand your specific situation and what support will look like.
There is no wrong time to ask for help with this.
The families who get the most from End-of-Life Support are those who reach out before they're overwhelmed — when there's still time to get ahead of what's coming rather than only reacting to it.*
But if you're already in the middle of it — if the situation is urgent and you need support now — that's exactly what this service is for. Reach out. We figure out what's needed and we start from where you are.
*What a 'Good Death' Actually Looks Like — a free five-day email course — gets you thinking when death feels far off but you know it's coming someday

The healthcare system and hospice help how they can. What they don't do is stand beside you — as a person, not a patient — and make sure you understand what's happening, that your wishes are being honored, and that you are okay. That's my job. And I take it seriously.
Virtual sessions available — geographic distance is not a barrier.