A steady hand, a quiet presence.

I have spent twenty years as a caregiver and the last four working as an EMT on the Olympic Peninsula. In both roles I've sat at countless bedsides — with strangers, with neighbors, with friends, and with my own family — as they made the journey from this life to whatever comes next.

What I noticed, again and again, is that the medical world is built for crisis. It is extraordinary at saving lives but is often less prepared for the slower, more tender work of accompanying a death well. My hope is to empower, educate and bring some relief. There is a gap between what the family needs vs what hospice provides.

That gap is where I work now. As a certified end-of-life doula, I bring the clinical awareness of an EMT and the long patience of a caregiver into a single, calm role. I can sit a vigil through the night so a spouse can sleep. I can help draft the hard conversations. I can translate what the nurses are saying. I can simply be there, so the family can be a family again.

This work is, for me, a calling. It is the natural shape of two decades of practice. And it is offered, always, with reverence for the person at the center of it.