If you’ve ever found yourself hesitating before texting a grieving friend or stumbling over your words when someone tells you their loved one is dying, you’re not alone. Most of us have experienced that awkward, tightening feeling in our chest--what should I say? Is this the wrong time? What if I make it worse?

Even as a death doula, I feel this way. If it's not tightening in my chest it's a pit in my stomach. It happened recently when I reached out to a friend whose parent is being treated for cancer. I hesitated, worried about saying the wrong thing.
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But as I sat with that discomfort it occurred to me, perhaps we aren't struggling with what to say because it's difficult to offer something helpful.

Maybe we (I?)  struggle because grief and suffering make us (me?) uncomfortable.

​Other's suffering calls up our own fears, our own unprocessed pain, and the helplessness we feel when someone we love is hurting. Is our silence or hesitation is more about us than it is about the person we want to comfort?

My friend's husband died.  She traveled across the country not long after and she visited with their mutual friends. When she came home she was hurt and angry.

"It was like there was a huge f*ing elephant in the room. People didn't even ask if I was okay."

​The silence can feel confusing and even painful. But I think if we dig into why that silence happens, we find that it’s usually not about a lack of care. It’s about fear.

We’re afraid we’ll say the wrong thing.
We’re afraid we’ll make them cry.
We’re afraid we’ll feel too much.
We’re afraid their grief will rub off on us, somehow.
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Our cultural discomfort with pain, mortality, and emotional vulnerability makes it hard to sit in the presence of suffering. Especially if we can’t fix it. But here’s the thing:

No one in pain is expecting us to fix it. They just want us to show up.

The emotional landscape of someone who is grieving or supporting a sick loved one is complex. But instead of walking alongside them, we often start managing our feelings first. That’s when discomfort takes the wheel and drives us straight into avoidance.

Discomfort tells us:

• “Give them space” (when what we mean is, “I don’t know how to deal with this.”)
• “They probably don’t want to talk about it” (when they may be aching to talk about it.)
• “I don’t want to say the wrong thing” (so we say nothing at all.)

We focus on getting it right, when what people really need is for us to be real.

Let’s be honest: there is no perfect sentence that will make someone feel whole when their world is breaking.

Showing up with sincerity and presence goes much farther than we think. In fact, people rarely remember what you said. They remember that you reached out. That you were there. That you didn’t flinch.

Instead of waiting until we feel perfectly equipped, we can start by getting curious about our own discomfort. When we pause and ask, “What is this bringing up in me?” we begin to unhook from the idea that we must perform grief support perfectly.
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Because grief isn’t a performance. It’s a relationship.

When in doubt, keep it simple and grounded. Here are a few things that can help when someone is grieving or dealing with serious illness:

• “I’m so sorry. I’m here if you want to talk or sit in silence.”
• “I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I’m thinking about you.”
• “Can I bring you a meal or walk your dog this week?”
• “I know I can’t fix this, but I want to be with you through it.”
• "This is really hard. I'm so sorry."

And when someone doesn’t respond right away or turns down support, don’t take it personally. Grief can make everyday interactions feel like lifting a boulder. Your steady presence matters, even if it’s not acknowledged immediately.

Most of us didn’t grow up with models of how to talk about death, dying, or deep emotional pain. But like any skill, showing up gets easier with practice.

You can start by sitting with your own discomfort. When someone’s story stirs up fear, helplessness, or sadness, try not to push those feelings away. Notice them. Make space for them. And then you can choose to reach out anyway. The more we allow ourselves to feel, the more capacity we build to be present for others.

This is part of what death doulas, chaplains, therapists, and grief counselors learn to do —it’s something all of us can begin to practice (yes, it's a practice for us too!).

It’s tempting to believe that if we just read the right article or say the right phrase, we’ll finally be “good” at showing up in hard times. But connection doesn’t require perfection. It requires courage.

It requires being willing to sit with your own unease and offer something imperfect but true to someone else.
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When someone we love is hurting, it’s not about knowing exactly what to do. It’s about choosing to stay connected, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Well-meaning phrases like “everything happens for a reason,” “they’re in a better place,” or “at least they lived a long life” often land as minimizing. They attempt to bypass the rawness of grief by wrapping it up in logic or spirituality.
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Instead, if you can, meet people where they are. If they’re angry, be with their anger. If they’re numb, don’t try to pull them out. If they’re crying, just stay.

When we stop trying to fix people’s pain, we become safe places for their hearts to rest.

The next time someone you know is going through something difficult—whether it’s the slow goodbye of illness or the shock of sudden loss—try not to search for the perfect thing to say.

Pause. Breathe. Notice your discomfort.

And then choose to connect.

A simple message, a kind gesture, a willingness to witness their pain—these things matter more than we know. When we show up, even clumsily, we become part of what helps people carry the weight of their suffering.

Not perfectly. But lovingly.

​And that’s more than enough.

Talking about death isn’t easy, but being supported through the dying process can make all the difference—for the person who is dying and for the people who love them. That’s where a death doula comes in. And if you're curious about what kind of preparation these caregivers receive, or you’re thinking about working with one, it’s helpful to know what death doula training involves, who it's designed for, and how to make sure a doula is the right fit for your needs.
Let’s break it down.

Death doula training is a structured educational experience designed to prepare individuals to support others through the end of life. Like birth doulas, death doulas (also known as end-of-life doulas) offer non-medical emotional, practical, and spiritual support. But unlike clinical professionals, their work centers on presence, advocacy, and helping people navigate the experience of dying on their own terms.
Death doula training programs vary widely—there’s no national licensing body, which means each organization brings its own focus, tone, and philosophy. That said, most high-quality death doula training includes a mix of core competencies:

• Understanding the dying process
  Training often starts with the basics of what happens physically, emotionally, and spiritually as death approaches.
• Active listening and communication skills
  Being present and attuned to unspoken needs is a cornerstone of doula work. Training focuses heavily on developing deep listening and compassionate communication.
• Planning and advance directives
  Many death doulas help clients complete advance care planning, legacy projects, or vigil wishes. Training often includes practical tools for facilitating these conversations.
• Cultural humility and grief awareness
  Death doula training frequently addresses cultural traditions around death, the importance of respecting individual beliefs, and how to companion someone through anticipatory and post-death grief.
• Self-care and boundaries
  Supporting dying people and their families can be emotionally intense. Good training programs emphasize how doulas care for themselves and maintain healthy professional boundaries.

Some programs also include modules on business practices, volunteer ethics, medical aid in dying (MAiD), green burials, and working within healthcare systems.

If you’re wondering whether death doula training is only for people looking to become professional doulas, like me, the answer is: not necessarily.
Of course, many people do take this training with the goal of starting a career or side practice as an end-of-life doula. But plenty of others enroll in death doula training for personal reasons. You might be:

• A family caregiver who wants to better support a loved one
  
• A hospice or palliative care professional looking to deepen your non-medical care skills
  
• Someone who’s had a profound experience with death and feels called to companion others on a completely volunteer basis
  
• A therapist, chaplain, or spiritual director adding tools to your toolbox
  
• A community member hoping to organize local resources or offer volunteer support
  

Death doula training isn’t just about skill-building—it’s also about personal growth, reflection, and transformation. Many people describe it as life-changing. Even if you never intend to support another person at the bedside, the training itself can help you think more intentionally about your own mortality, your values, and how you want to live and die.

Once you’ve decided to hire a death doula—or help someone else find one—it’s essential to make sure they’re the right fit. Not every death doula will be a match for every family, and that’s okay. Most doulas will welcome your questions and appreciate your desire to make an informed choice.
Here are some thoughtful questions to ask when interviewing a death doula:
1. Where did you receive your death doula training?
There are many reputable programs out there, such as INELDA (International End of Life Doula Association), the University of Vermont’s End-of-Life Doula Certificate, Going with Grace, Lifespan Doulas, and the Conscious Dying Institute. Some doulas may have completed more than one training. Ask about their experience and why they chose their specific path.
2. How do you describe your role?
Every doula’s approach is a little different. Some focus more on legacy work or emotional support; others excel at logistics or vigil planning. Listen to how the doula describes their work and see if it aligns with what you're looking for. If you don't hear what you're looking for - ask about those specific things. Some folks are better at describing their services than others asking detailed questions can help you get the information you need to make an aligned choice for yourself.
3. Can you tell me about your experience working with clients like mine?
Whether you’re supporting a terminal illness, an elderly parent, or someone seeking medical aid in dying, it’s okay to ask if they’ve supported others in similar situations.
4. How do you structure your services and fees?
Some doulas charge by the hour; others offer packages, or sliding-scale options. Make sure expectations are clear. A doula should be able to provide you with a written agreement outlining services, availability, and pricing.
5. How do you approach cultural, religious, or spiritual differences?
A good death doula will be open, curious, and respectful of your beliefs. If your family has specific traditions or rituals, ask if they’re comfortable supporting those.
6. What are your boundaries and scope of practice?
Death doulas do not offer medical care or legal advice. They should be clear about what they do and don’t provide—and be ready to collaborate with your care team or refer you elsewhere if needed.
7. What made you pursue death doula training?
This can give you a window into their motivations, values, and personality. Many doulas come to this work because of a powerful personal experience. Sharing stories builds trust.

Or if you prefer, here is my free PDF on How to Choose an End of Life Doula.

If you’re ready to start looking for someone, here are a few directories that list doulas who have completed death doula training through various organizations:

• National End-of-Life Doula Alliance (NEDA): www.nedalliance.org
  Offers a directory and credentialing system for doulas who meet core competency standards.
  
• INELDA: www.inelda.org
  Provides both training and a list of trained doulas.
  
• Going with Grace: www.goingwithgrace.com
  Founder Alua Arthur’s organization offers a vibrant training and graduate network.
  
• Doula Training Programs: Check the websites of organizations like Lifespan Doulas, the University of Vermont, and others for referrals.
  

Don’t be afraid to speak to a few different doulas before deciding. The right fit can make a huge difference in how supported you feel.

Whether you’re interested in becoming a death doula or looking to hire one, understanding what death doula training involves is an empowering first step. From learning how to companion the dying with presence and compassion to offering grief support and helping families create meaningful rituals, death doula training prepares people to show up in one of life’s most sacred moments.
And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that death isn’t something to fear or manage alone. With the right support, it can be a deeply human, even beautiful, part of life.
If you're exploring this path—whether for yourself or someone you love—death doula training can offer the knowledge and heart-centered tools you need to walk it well.

When we talk about end-of-life care, one phrase comes up again and again: a good death. We say it in hushed tones, in wishes, in eulogies. "At least she had a good death," we might say, meaning there was peace, minimal pain, maybe even a moment of grace. And while that’s a beautiful sentiment, I want to talk about something different—something just as important, if not more so.

What if we shifted the conversation from simply hoping for a good death to actively preparing for a well supported death?
Because here's the truth: a good death doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when people are supported—emotionally, physically, spiritually, and logistically. A well supported death lays the groundwork for what we think of as a good death, but it centers the process, the people, and the infrastructure of care, not just the outcome.
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Let’s break down what that really means—and why this shift in language and perspective matters more than ever.

The Limits of the "Good Death" Narrative
The term good death has become a kind of shorthand in hospice and palliative care circles. It usually implies that the person who died did so peacefully, without unnecessary suffering, with dignity, and according to their values. And of course, that’s something to aspire to.

But here’s the problem: the phrase good death can sometimes feel vague, overly idealistic, or even judgmental. I mean who needs a measuring stick at the end of life to tell you how well your are doing. And also...

• What if someone dies in pain, but surrounded by love?
• What if they die in a hospital, not at home, but their wishes were honored as best they could be?
• What if they were scared, or angry, or left things unsaid?

Does that mean their death wasn’t "good?"

The reality is that death is complex. It’s unpredictable. And it’s not always clean or peaceful. When we talk only about the good death, we can unintentionally place blame or shame on families, caregivers, or even the dying person themselves when things don’t go perfectly.
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That’s where the concept of a well supported death comes in—and why it’s so important to shift our language and our expectations.

What Is a Well Supported Death?
A well supported death is about the infrastructure of care. It’s about the hands that hold someone—metaphorically and literally—through the final days, weeks, or months of their life.

Here’s what a well supported death includes:

• Physical support: Effective pain and symptom management, gentle personal care, rest, and access to comfort.
• Emotional support: Compassionate listeners, space for fear, tears, joy, or silence.
• Spiritual support: Access to rituals, prayers, meditation, ceremonies, or other meaningful practices.
• Logistical support: Help navigating hospice, end-of-life care options, funeral arrangements, and advance directives.
• Family support: Resources for caregivers, respite time, grief support, and honest communication.

A well supported death doesn’t necessarily mean everything goes perfectly. It means that no one was left carrying the weight alone. It means that support was there—even when things were hard.
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And here’s something crucial: a well supported death may still feel messy, painful, or even tragic. But it is carried, it is held, it is witnessed. That’s where the healing happens.

Why Language Matters: Moving From Good to Supported
When we say someone had a good death, we’re making a judgment—usually with good intentions, but still a judgment. That framing can unintentionally:

• Place pressure on families to "do it right"
• Imply that some deaths are "bad"
• Make people feel like they failed their loved one
• Overlook the complexity and unpredictability of dying

But when we talk about a well supported death, we move away from moral evaluation and toward compassionate process.
We’re not asking whether someone’s death was "good" or "bad." We’re asking: Were they cared for? Were their needs met? Were they seen and heard?

​That shift creates more space for nuance, honesty, and grace.

10 Real-Life Ways a Well Supported Death Shows Up
Let’s look at some tangible examples. These are all situations where people might not use the phrase good death, but they clearly demonstrate what a well supported death looks like.

1. A person with dementia dies in a facility where staff know their story, play their favorite music, and hold their hand during the final hours.
2. A dying parent’s adult children rotate shifts to be bedside, supported by a hospice team and a friend bringing food.
3. A terminally ill person uses Medical Aid in Dying, after long discussions with family, doctors, and an end-of-life doula who helps plan the day and their goodbyes.
4. A dying person experiences intense pain, but their caregivers advocate persistently to get the right medication and relief.
5. A person dies suddenly, but their family is surrounded by a community offering meals, childcare, and storytelling.
6. An end-of-life doula helps a family write legacy letters, facilitating connection even as decline progresses.
7. A hospital patient dies unexpectedly, but a chaplain and nurse stay with them, lighting a candle and offering prayers.
8. A chosen family rallies around a queer elder, making sure their pronouns, body, and wishes are respected after death.
9. A person dies at home with their dog in bed and their favorite record playing, thanks to a well-prepared advance care plan.
10. A dying person asks hard questions about what happens next, and their caregivers don’t look away—they stay and answer with honesty.

​Each of these examples reflects a well supported death. Not all would fit traditional definitions of a good death, but they center connection, care, and respect.

Why the Shift Matters for Families and Caregivers
If you’re reading this as someone supporting a loved one through illness or decline, you may already know how heavy that role can feel. The pressure to "get it right" can be overwhelming.

Shifting the focus to a well supported death allows you to ask better questions:

• Who else can help?
• What do they need emotionally—not just physically?
• How can we build in time for rest, ritual, and reflection?
• What kind of presence feels most comforting?

​Instead of striving for perfection, you can aim for presence.

Instead of chasing a good death, you can build a well supported death—together.

How to Begin Planning for a Well Supported Death
If you're wondering how to begin this kind of preparation, here are a few key steps and resources:
1. Have the Conversations Early. Use resources like:

• The Conversation Project
• GoWish Cards
  These tools can help you and your loved ones explore values and priorities long before a crisis.

2. Create an Advance Directive. This includes:

• Living will
• Healthcare proxy
• POLST (Physician Orders for Life-Sustaining Treatment)
  Check with your state’s laws and forms, or visit CaringInfo.

3. Explore Hospice and Palliative Care. Even if you’re not ready to enroll, understanding your options can reduce fear and empower decision-making. Hospice is often misunderstood—learn more through:

• Medicare.gov
• GetPalliativeCare.org

4. Consider Hiring an End-of-Life Doula. Doulas provide non-medical emotional, spiritual, and logistical support. Find one at:

• National End-of-Life Doula Alliance (NEDA)
• Death Doula Directory

5. Build a Circle of Support. Think beyond professionals: neighbors, friends, faith leaders, therapists, meal trains, and even pets can all play a role in creating a well supported death.

The Role of End-of-Life Doulas in a Well Supported Death
As a death doula, my work centers around exactly this: supporting a death that is not just “good” in appearance, but deeply supported in its reality.

I’ve sat with people whose dying process was chaotic and still beautiful. I’ve seen families fall apart and then pull together. I’ve helped clients plan their final weeks with intention and watched as their plans gave them peace, even when their deaths weren’t “perfect.”

What mattered most wasn’t whether the death fit someone’s idea of “good.” What mattered was that the person wasn’t adrift. That they were cared for. That they were witnessed.
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That’s the heart of a well supported death.

Let’s Reframe the Narrative
The phrase good death isn’t going anywhere—and it doesn’t need to. But let’s expand our language.

Let’s start talking more about what it takes to get there, and how we can offer each other support through the process.
Let’s talk about:

• Building systems of care
• Naming the helpers
• Holding space for imperfection
• Honoring emotional needs, not just physical ones

Let’s talk about a well supported death.

​Because when we do, we give ourselves—and each other—permission to show up in all our human messiness and love.
We stop chasing the impossible and start offering presence. We become doulas to each other.

Final Thoughts: What You Can Do Today
Here are three things you can do right now to help move this shift forward:

1. Talk about your wishes. Even if it’s awkward. Especially if it’s awkward.
2. Support someone else’s death. Bring soup. Sit quietly. Ask what they need.
3. Change your language. The next time you hear “a good death,” consider adding, “It sounds like they were well supported.”

​Because the more we talk about a well supported death, the more we create space for truth, care, and connection.
And in the end, isn’t that what really matters?