(Tannis Dorscht is a Life Celebrant, Grief Educator, and End of Life Doula residing in Okotoks, Alberta, Canada. She was drawn to this path after the passing of her father in 2017. Tannis received her training from Life Celebrants International, David Kessler, Grief Educator, and Douglas College. This article, used with permission, appeared online at Remembering A Life.)
==================================
Holding vigil for someone as they near the end of life is a sacred space. It reminds us that in a world where we are so divided; at the end of this crazy race we call life, as a society, we are all more equal than perhaps we want to acknowledge. The house we lived in, the job we held or the car we drove have no consequence as we come to the end of our journey here. There are no first-class tickets to where we are going; we cannot wear the fancy shoes or take the designer watch with us. In fact, it is not what we take with us, but what we leave behind that becomes important.
In 2001 in Eugene, Oregon, the concept of NODA (No one Dies Alone), was born, initiated by a registered nurse named Sandra Clarke who saw a need for compassionate volunteers to sit at the bedside with patients who would otherwise be alone. Today, 23 years later, I am privileged to be a volunteer for NODA in our community.
On a cold January afternoon, I got a call asking if I was available to sit with a patient in our local hospital – my first shift with NODA. I arrived at the hospital several hours later, relieving the volunteer who had come before me. As I sat holding vigil for a sweet soul laying peacefully in the bed in her final hours of life, I realized in a moment of sadness that for reasons that did not matter, nor was I privy to, this person had no family or friends who were able to be with her. Our NODA community rallied and set up a rotating schedule of volunteers who would sit with her around the clock, each taking three- to four-hour shifts ensuring she would not be alone on this journey.
As I held her frail, withered hand, in awe of each wrinkle and fold, I was brought into a free liberating space never experienced in my adult life. I became starkly aware that I knew nothing about this person aside from her first name. I was sitting in a chair 100 percent free of any judgment.
As perfectly flawed human beings, we walk through life judging those we come across in our daily lives. We judge how we raise our children, each other’s political views, who is vaccinated or not, how we dress, how we assert or do not assert ourselves – you name it, we judge it. It is neither good nor bad, it is just human nature to form our own opinions of those around us.
To be present in a space of genuine non-judgment has been one of the most liberating, enlightening, educational moments of my life.
I study her hand enveloped in mine, each line and crease holding a story to be told. I did not judge, but I was curious. Had those hands tilled her own garden? Rocked babies to sleep? Did she knit, paint, sew? How many tears has she wiped away? What kind of work did she do? So many questions stemming from my own curiosity of the human experience.
Just yesterday we were strangers; today I have been invited to walk with her on the final leg of her journey. I knew nothing about her, while simultaneously being closer to her than I am to some people who have been in my life for years. It is my hope, as she slips in and out of consciousness, she is aware of my presence and the compassion I have brought. I hope that a stranger holding her hand brings her comfort and a feeling of safety.
Comfortable with silence, only the soft music playing in the room, I wonder if she is aware of the imposing ticking of the clock on the wall counting down her final moments. I occasionally break the silence to speak her name and remind her that she is safe where she is.
When I arrived, I told her my name and that I was there to sit with her and keep her company. If I needed to step away, I reassured her I would be right back. I know she can hear me, but I keep the chatter to a minimum as to not disturb her peace. Every now and then, I look up to see a faint smile on her face – I wonder what it is she sees, who she is thinking of, taking comfort in knowing she is feeling safe and at peace in this moment.
Eventually, her breath slows until she takes her last; the nursing staff comes into the room to confirm she is gone. Her body lying lifeless, but peaceful. I pull the sheet up around her shoulders and tuck her in one last time, thanking her for allowing me the honor of walking with her, then slip quietly out of the hospital.
On my drive home alone in my thoughts, I think of Sandra Clarke. Because of her vision 23 years ago, this lady did not have to die alone. Because of Sandra Clarke, I have the honor of belonging to an incredible team of NODA volunteers who serve our community. I wonder if she knew at the time that her vision would touch lives around the globe, and what a legacy she would leave in this world.
There are people who will tell you that individuals who volunteer with NODA are incredibly selfless and are providing a meaningful gift by offering companionship to those who would otherwise spend their final hours alone. Today, as I sift through my experiences as a NODA volunteer – while I do agree that dedicating our time is undoubtedly a kind act – the companionship shared by NODA volunteers in our little piece of the world as we live Sandra Clarke’s vision is truly a priceless blessing.
However, through my reflections, I have come to realize that perhaps it is us, the volunteers, who receive the greatest gift.
(Please scroll down to comment, and feel free to share our blog posts with others who may benefit from them.)
Final Exit Network (FEN) is a network of dedicated professionals and caring, trained volunteers who support mentally competent adults as they navigate their end-of-life journey. Established in 2004, FEN seeks to educate qualified individuals in practical, peaceful ways to end their lives, offer a compassionate bedside presence and defend a person’s right to choose. For more information, go to www.finalexitnetwork.org.
Payments and donations are tax deductible to the full extent allowed by law. Final Exit Network is a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization.
Enter your email address to receive these posts in your inbox each week:
It is extremely important that no one die alone, UNLESS THEY WANT TO! I am a hospice doula, and like many other hospice doulas I have asked, I prefer to die alone. This NODA movement can be over-zealous in implementing the Golden rule, when it should be the Platinum rule they follow. Do unto others as THEY would want done unto themselves.
As Craig points out, we’re all different—right up to the end of life. We each have our own wishes and priorities, which is why it’s so important to make yours known. Talk with the person you’ve chosen to speak for you, called a health care proxy or medical power of attorney. Share your wishes with family and friends, too. Put them in writing, or record an audio or video explaining what you do—and don’t—want at the end of life.
These conversations, and more, are at the heart of my award-winning book, The Courage to Care: Being Fully Present with the Dying, described by one reviewer as “an extraordinary guide filled with practical guidance, emotional wisdom, and spiritual insight.”
What a beautifully powerful blog. Tannis highlights what is sacred when she sat with someone who was dying. There was no judgement, but there was wonder. When death came, Tannis was as blessed as the woman she sat with.