“So, how long has she got?”

“So, how long has she got ?”

Sometimes I wish I could pull a crystal ball out of my pocket when a family asks me this question. What I hear in the voice of the mother, as she asks of her daughter, “How much longer?” is desperation; a desperate desire to have a sliver of certainty in this wholly uncertain time. The unspoken that lingers when a husband asks “How much longer?” breathes his desire to have a fixed point in this sea of change. The almost pleading “How much longer?” from a daughter before she leaves her father’s home is hope for reassurance that she won’t miss the final moments.

I don’t have the answer to this question, no matter how much I wish I did. What I do have is knowledge and experience of the signs and patterns that identify the stages of the dying process. This wisdom, articulated with tenderness and patience, is the clarity that I can give.

And the truth is that this wisdom is not only enough, it is all there is. The last thing a family needs is for their death midwife to pull the correct answer out of thin air. My job is to constantly and consistently return the family to their own inner knowing. This is their home, their experience, their loved one and they know the answers to the questions that bother them the most. I’m just here to gently nudge them into the sacred space where we can remember our own wisdom and hear our own truth. It’s not my job to answer that elusive question, it’s my job to give you the tools, the confidence, and the space to remember that you already know, within the silence and stillness of yourself.