My therapist told me at the end of our session that she felt compelled to say something to me. I said of course. There are only a few people in my life whose opinions and insights I respect, and she is one of them. She has seen me through the highest highs and through the lowest lows, riding the roller coaster of grief, guilt, and so much more. She said, “I am proud of you.”

In the large scheme of things that might not be an earth-shattering event. But coming from her, and knowing the challenges that I had gone through since my mom passed away unexpectedly in 2017, it meant the world to me. I never set out to be a caregiver. I never thought that my career would take an unexpected 180-degree turn with my mom’s passing and all the complications. I would have never imagined that one of the most precious gifts that I received from my mom was going to be the gift of life, but also the gift of being there for her in that final month. 

My therapist knows how many regrets I felt over the years for all the things that I didn’t know about death, dying, and caregiving, and yet, by choice and by default, I ended up being Mom’s main caregiver for four long weeks in the hospital. Her passing is what motivated me upon returning back to the States to sign up for INELDA’s end-of-life doula training. I didn’t want to be caught off-guard ever again upon the inevitability of death in my surroundings, including my own. I became an end-of-life doula as a way to process grief, a word that until my mom’s passing didn’t mean much. 

I spent years supporting homeless populations, hospice patients, and incarcerated populations, both as a way of understanding my own pain and the pain of the world, and also to make sure I didn’t shut down in the face of the immense emptiness I felt in my heart after Mom’s dying. There was a sense of fulfillment in helping and educating others in the way I wish I had been educated or been knowledgeable about death at large, my mom’s in particular. It has been eight years since her passing. 

My grief has matured into an adult I can live with. An adult I respect for the humility that it requires to go through the uncharted territory of exploring our own and others’ impermanence. So when my therapist told me that she is proud of me, I soaked in each of those words. I accepted that I had come a long way. That loss has shaped who I am today. But most importantly, love has guided me all the way.