Grieving as a Death Midwife

This month marks the one year anniversary of the death of Mr. RW, a man I had the honor or walking alongside as his hospice volunteer. Mr. RW taught me one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a death midwife, the importance of tending my own grief.

I met Mr. RW shortly after he was enrolled into hospice care and visited weekly for the six months until he died. I bonded quickly with his wife and enjoyed this family enormously; they are generous, faith-filled and warmly genuine. When Mr. RW finally died, after a slow disease process complicated by severe dementia, I prepared myself and my family for the flood of emotions that I anticipated. I created a sacred space for myself, lit my candles, ran a salty herbal bath and asked my husband to keep the kids from disturbing me. And then I sat there and waited for the tears to flow. But they never came.

I didn’t shed a single tear for the man who had taught me so much with his humility, warmth and kindness. I didn’t cry for his beautiful wife who was devastated by her loss. I couldn’t seem to let the wall that I had built around my heart crack or crumble. I had spent so long building my protection that it couldn’t be dismantled when it felt appropriate.

In the past year, I’ve slowly learned to reconnect my mind with my body through yoga and breath work. I’ve quit drinking to end my habitual numbing strategy. I’ve doubled down on my therapy and cracked myself open for the first time since childhood. Today, I sat in my kitchen and cried a good cry for Mr. RW and for my own missing of him. I thanked his spirit and snapped a few pictures of my tears because he’d want me to celebrate this growth and be proud of how hard I’ve worked to be able to know my grief, own my grief, express my grief and release (at least a tiny part) of my grief.

Sending love to all the grieving death workers who miss their folks, like me. I’ve never posted a pic of myself not posed and smiling. That woman is a part of me and my deathwork. But so is this grieving one and I’m proud of her too.