Sitting With Her: My First Experience as a Death Doula

In the quiet space between life and death, I had the profound honour of sitting beside Olivia, an extraordinary woman in her early 80s, during her final days. After years of living with a terminal illness, Olivia made the conscious decision to stop eating and drinking—a clear and considered choice to allow her body to rest, and to meet death on her own terms.

This was not a decision made in isolation. Her family walked every step beside her, loving and steadfast, but needing support through the unfamiliar terrain of dying. That support, for a time, came from me. As a new death doula, I was invited into their inner circle, a gesture of trust I will never forget.

Olivia’s choice was not about surrendering to death, but about reclaiming peace. It was a final act of agency—calm, deliberate, and deeply dignified. In those last days, her spirit remained sharp and luminous. Her humour surfaced in quiet remarks; her eyes still sparkled with insight. She knew what lay ahead, and she faced it with clarity and grace.

What she needed was presence—unwavering, grounded, and compassionate. And what her family needed was someone who could quietly guide the way, answering questions, offering rest, and creating a container for love and grief to coexist.

There were moments of striking beauty. Her daughter gently stroking her hair. Her grandson reading aloud a story from childhood. The soft morning light falling across her bed while magpies called from the gum trees beyond the window. These were the ordinary miracles of her final days, and they will stay with me.

We don’t often speak of death like this—unhurried, spacious, and intentional. Yet for some, especially those living with a terminal diagnosis, voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (or VSED) can be a meaningful and lawful way to approach the end. It is not about giving up, but about choosing to let go in a way that feels aligned with one’s values, when treatment no longer offers comfort or hope.

When supported with care, VSED can be a gentle path home. It is deeply personal, and when held in the right hands—with medical insight, emotional support, and family presence—it can be a profoundly peaceful experience.

My role was not to intervene, or to offer solutions. It was to witness. To bring a steady presence, to help the family anticipate what was to come, to offer small rituals of meaning, and to ensure Olivia’s wishes were honoured, gently and respectfully.

It was, without question, one of the greatest honours of my life so far. As I left her home for the last time, I thought of all the people who might be seeking this kind of care—those quietly facing the end, and the families doing their best to hold it all together without a roadmap.

This was my first time walking the full arc of chosen dying, but I know it will not be the last. I have come to believe that when death is met with openness, honesty, and compassionate presence, it can be just as sacred as the beginning of life.

To anyone walking this path, I want you to know: you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here to walk beside you—with warmth, steadiness, and deep respect for the profound transition that is dying.