Providing emotional and physical support before, during and after death
It is relatively a new profession, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a practicing end-of-life doula in Whitehorse. Kim Winnikey’s company, Passages, offers many services to guide and support terminally ill patients and their families and friends through their final days..
Since the role of an end-of-life doula is as diverse as their clients, I asked Kim what her niche is. She said she is strongest at “being present with whatever arises for a given client or in a given session. Sometimes this is sitting with intense emotions or existential questions; other times it is connecting people with resources and tools to meet specific needs.
“Supporting clients in identifying what is important to them at this moment: Is it repairing a ruptured relationship? Or legacy work like scrapbooks, life reviews or video montages? Is it setting up their space to be comfortable, sacred and supportive? Some people request support in tying up paperwork and administration.”
She also finds a lot of meaning in “supporting caregivers, friends and family members by providing short-term respite care, suggesting resources or by simply being fully present as they share their grief and stories. Actively listening and being fully present is so supportive of healing and growth.”
Kim’s comfort around the death stems from the fact that her father was a funeral director in northern Alberta. One of her earliest memories from the funeral home was picking out her casket when she was five and planning her funeral a few years later (and updating those plans every few months). This normalized death for her and allowed her to be comfortable with the intense emotions and grief that often come with death.
My sister, Valerie Lykkemark, is a death doula in Victoria, B.C. Like Kim, Valerie completed the Douglas College End-of-Life Doula Training Program, as well as other online courses. Kim has volunteered for Hospice Yukon for eight years, and Valerie volunteers at Victoria Hospice.
Before Valerie became a death doula, she had worked, for years, coordinating volunteers for cancer patients in Victoria. She knew what services were available for terminal patients and how to navigate the health-care system, so she thought that that would be her main role as a death doula. Through her training, she discovered that her empathy and inner knowing were strong assets. She discovered a love of creating altars and rituals to empower the family and friends to better support the dying person.
I witnessed this power last Christmas when we thought that our mom was dying.
Mom was in the hospital, shaky, not eating much and too weak to even sit up on her own. Valerie recognized other non-medical signs that Mom was nearing the end. She was going through her “end of life review,” reliving pivotal moments in her life. For example, the day we were waiting for the ambulance to transport her to her new nursing home, she was positive that people were arriving for her garage sale (on the other side of the hospital curtain), which had happened 10 years ago after Dad had died. It was a traumatic experience for her at the time, and heart-wrenching to watch her anxiety as she relived it in that hospital room. I was glad that Valerie had explained to me what was happening so I could appreciate experiencing this stage of life.
Valerie created a beautiful altar, back at Mom’s old place where we were staying, with photos of my dad and grandparents. Every night we would light the candles, share a moment of silence and then say or do whatever felt right at the moment. We called on our mother’s many friends and relatives who had already passed—to come guide her on her journey. We thanked the universe for the 92 years that Mom has spread her love on this Earth, and prayed that she would soon receive it all back in heaven. Sometimes we sang a song, did some yoga, danced around the room … whatever felt right.
Valerie’s morning ritual was going for a long walk through Fish Creek Park, for her own health and well-being. She enjoyed looking at the half-frozen river, comparing it to my mom’s spirit journey (starting to flow home, but still frozen in places). We knew that one reason Mom didn’t want to let go was that she was still worried about some of her kids and grandkids. So, as all of our family began arriving for their possibly last visit with Mom, Valerie added another ritual to her walk. She would pull a “worry stick” out of a big beaver dam, for each visitor, and fling it out into the current.
It seemed to help a bit. Mom quit stressing about her kids and grandkids. Instead, she was worrying about how she was going to get to the airport and where her passport was. When we asked where she was going, she couldn’t tell us. Valerie knew that getting ready to get on the train or plane is common before someone dies. When we suggested that maybe the trip was to heaven, to see our dad, she would look at us like we were nuts. Valerie had already made sure she had all of her Advanced Care Planning: Mom had indicated that she didn’t want medical intervention, so we arranged for her to be put on Comfort Care.
It was both solacing and refreshing, for me, to be with someone who wasn’t afraid of death or afraid of talking about it.
Valerie and I visited the funeral home together and learned about the plan that Mom and Dad had bought years ago. We started working on her obituary and discussing Celebration of Life plans. When they moved Mom to a nursing home, we wrote out end-of-life instructions in case Mom died in her sleep. We asked that they contact us before the funeral home so we could spend some time with her body before it was taken to the crematorium. I was grateful to have my own death doula to guide and support me through these plans. Valerie made it feel like an honour to witness our mom’s last journey, and we felt many moments of magic and peace.
As it turned out, Mom got moved to a nursing home where they took such good care of her that she regained some strength. She still can’t walk, is often too shaky to feed herself and is very depressed, but her spirit is holding on. Everyone recognizes that giving birth is hard labour, but so is dying. Valerie explained to our family (and to Mom) that Mom will eventually lose her appetite and will stop eating and fade away. I hope to be there when that happens—to hold vigil—and I am comforted to know that Valerie will be there too.
When I asked Valerie why she named her company RiversEnd, she explained, “This speaks to my passion for water, which always shows up in our life in different forms. Sixty percent of our body is composed of water. Does the river actually ever end or does it turn into a swamp or seep into the ground to nurture plants, or evaporate into the sky to come back as rain, or run into another river or the ocean, to become one? I always look to nature for questions about the end of life and what comes after.”
Like Kim planned her funeral, at seven years old, Valerie encourages everyone to make an end- of-life plan. The more details you can write down about what you want—as far as medical intervention, celebration of life, donating organs, and burial—it will take a lot of stress off of the loved ones you leave behind.
“Remember, when you start talking about death, the values of which you currently live your life are highlighted. So, by thinking about how you want to die, you actually end up living a better life that aligns with your truth.
“Don’t be afraid to say the ‘D’ word. It won’t make it come faster but we all get to take a turn at it, so we might as well take it out of the shadows so we can see the light that it unfolds.
“Be prepared, not scared.”
