This morning I drove to my hospice client’s house. I had seen her earlier in the week. I could tell that things were progressing quickly based on her physical appearance and the fact that there was a lot of family around. When you’ve been doing this for a few years to start to understand what certain things can indicate. I was hoping I’d get to here one last time. When I pulled in this morning however I was greeted by a member of her family who informed me that she had died peacefully a few hours earlier.

Sometimes this happens. Sometimes we are too late. Sometimes no matter how much we’d like to be there in someone’s final moments their schedule is different from our schedule. All of that is ok because all of that is part of this process. I’m so grateful that I was able to see her on Monday. Her family member shared with me that after her session on Monday that it had helped, that she was in less pain afterwards, and that she was also grateful for the support. That is literally all I pray for with my hospice clients because it is all I can responsibly pray for.

I often get asked how I can do this work or someone will comment, “I don’t know how you do that, I’d be a wreck.” The truth is I can do this because this isn’t my family member, this isn’t my loved one dying. I am also crystal clear on what my role is, I am not there to heal, I am not there to fix, it is not within my power to do either of those things. What I can do however is reduce pain through compassionate touch & presence; and that is exactly what I do.

Did I cry on my drive home? Yes, I did. I experience grief and loss with each hospice client after they die regardless of how much time I was given with them. Sometimes that’s a year, a few months, or one visit. I grieve for every soul I had the honor of supporting in their dying. When I think about it one of the tools I use to support myself in this work is in a nutshell something called “radical acceptance of what is.” This place is not a place of feeling, it is a place of knowing. A place of fact, a place of information on the client’s condition, a place of data around their diagnosis, and a place where when I enter their space all of that is put down for a few moments of grace and stillness. The proccesing part of this work comes after I leave, when I am on my own and can let myself tune into what I am experiencing inside of someone else’s death. It is this very real tool of compartmentalization that supports me in this work of hospice massage and one that I am deeply grateful for.

I recognize that this is a learned skill and that this work is not for everyone. It can be very confronting. I happen to be someone who can handle it. I can’t not do this work because if I don’t, who will?