The Transition Talk

notes from the field on communication

Photo by Zac Gudakov on Unsplash

This weekend I spent quality time catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen for a while. Over tea, she tells me that she had the opportunity to dabble in death doula-ing, as her neighbor had passed away just recently. Naturally, I wanted to know more - both to understand what she considered death doula-ing, and to give her kudos for stepping into that unfamiliar space to help someone she cared about.

She caught me up on their relationship - the neighbor had lived alone and was self-sufficient, even though she had never been in the best of health. The neighbor did know that my friend was a safe person to ask for help when she did find herself in a pickle, and recently they had spent an afternoon together after my friend had cause to save the day.

It was one of those afternoons you reflect on later and think - I am glad I had that time. That day was a celebration of vulnerability, compassion, service above self and even a little gift giving, as they each unknowingly bought each other flowers on their trip to the grocery story.

It was also the last day they would spend time together. A week or two later, my friend felt called to come home on her lunch break. This was a-typical, but something made her decide that she wanted to pick her roommate up for lunch that day, instead of the grab-something-on-the-fly she usually did. She arrived to commotion in the neighbor’s driveway, and soon all would learn that the neighbor had died sometime the night before.

She did the things you do when you get such jarring information. She called the people that needed to know so they didn’t hear from some stranger, and sat with the information that her neighbor - her friend - had died.

This is when the death doula action kicks in. As my friend and her roommate processed what had just happened, they decide they should go next door with offerings and attempt communication as a way of aiding her transition.

If a death doula is defined as someone who helps a person before, during or after death, this would definitely qualify as a service they may offer, and I was happy to hear that, in the absence of any other help as she died, my friend was willing to step in to see how she might be of assistance to her neighbor after the fact.

This idea is not unfamiliar to me, in fact it was my own reaction when a friend died in 2020 - but what I am not sure of is where the idea came from…so I have spent my own time this weekend reflecting and learning.

What I think of first is “Remember Me,” a Christopher Pike novel I read as a kid and in it a woman is killed, and is confused for a time. She does not realize she has died. There are countless books and movies that describe what happens after - and explore the idea that we linger… Beetlejuice comes to mind, too.

With that said - why I think this act comes into our awareness is the trickle of certain parts of various faiths into the public consciousness. This act is very much reflective of the Jewish tradition of Shemira, where a shomer (m) or shomeret (f) watches over a body as both a guard and as a source of comfort. It is believed that the soul stays near the body for a time and it is the shomer’s role to stay present or read psalms as a source of comfort.

My friend, having no access to her neighbor’s body, still felt called to sit at the home where this neighbor had died and talk to her. She brought wine, which the neighbor had loved and some food, then told her neighbor what had happened and that she was safe and cared for. She was acting as a shomeret, bringing comfort to a soul that may be hovering, not quite ready to leave the earthly realm.

Some people will read this and it will resonate. Others will think it is silly. What I like to remember in this moment is that one thing for sure happened - my friend took an act that helped her own grieving and didn’t hurt anyone. If the neighbor’s soul was there or if it wasn’t, this ritual was important time spent for my friend…this is the worst case scenario and it doesn’t sound bad at all.

In the best case scenario, the neighbor was still there, and was touched by the kindness of someone who loved her. She was comforted by my friend’s presence and eased gently into her transition. A great payoff for a slightly irrational act…and maybe we aren’t meant to act rationally 100% of the time?

In Memory of T