Beloved souls who have helped us become who we are today, touched our hearts forever and continue to guide us from another realm.
At four years old, received from a friend, Toby spent 10 years with Kylee and Mallory, lovingly known as their "red-headed step child". He was fiercely protective and slinky like in the cutest way.
Boone's sister, also inherited by Kylee and Mallory. She loved to collect dead things, her "squeaky toys". Oh, a farm dog life.
Beloved souls who have helped us become who we are today, touched our hearts forever and continue to guide us from another realm.
Sacred Death Care
Let me be blunt. You should be planning for your death, long before you think it will come. It is coming. That is the only guarantee you have in life.
To be invited to walk with you through the planning and experience of your end-of-life is an act of profound trust. It requires steadiness, intuitive wisdom, and a heart that understands both love and loss from the inside. I offer all three.
My guidance is shaped by over a decade of professional experience in long-term care, but also, by experience far more personal. I have carried the person I loved most in this world, through years of illness, a roller coaster of improvement and decline, and through their unexpected, sacred death. I understand the quiet courage it takes to face mortality. I understand the loud, unbearable pain. I understand the exhaustion, the sacredness, the practical decisions, and the moments of unexpected grace. I understand the intense grief and all that comes with it. I can foresee what you and your family might need — and what you often don’t yet know to ask for. Through lived experience, compassionate presence, clinical knowledge and training through the Institute of Traditional Medicine, I help bring clarity to what can otherwise feel overwhelming. Together, we can thoughtfully plan for comfort, dignity, legacy, and meaning through your sacred exit from this realm. We can create space for important conversations, align care with your values, and ensure your voice remains at the center of every decision. But beyond logistics, I also offer grounded companionship and unwavering advocacy.
End-of-life is not only a medical event — it is emotional, relational, spiritual. It is a threshold. You deserve someone beside you who honours that threshold. Someone who can hold steady when fears arise. Someone who honors both the grief and the beauty present in this final chapter.
To walk with me is to be met with reverence, intelligence, and lived understanding. It is to know you are not alone — and that your final season can be approached with intention, tenderness, and peace. Being your death doula, your end-of-life companion, your transition guide, your death walker; whatever you want to call me, would be an absolute honour, to me.
Grief & Bereavement Support
Grief is not a straight line. It is a landscape — shifting, unpredictable, deeply personal.
People grieve all sorts of loss. Loss through death, pet loss, divorce loss, loss of a living toxic family member for self-preservation...
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One day you may feel steady, even hopeful. The next, something small — a smell, a song, a memory — can bring the wave rushing back. This is not failure in healing. It is the natural rhythm of love and being human continuing to move through you.
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Grief is often described as a rollercoaster, and in many ways it is. There are moments of stillness, moments of descent, moments where the intensity surprises you. No two grief journeys look the same, because no two loves are the same. The shape of your grief reflects the depth of your bond.​ Without great love, there would be no great loss — and without great loss, there would be no great pain. The pain is not a problem to solve. It is evidence of a connection that mattered profoundly.
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My role in grief and bereavement support is not to rush you toward “moving on.” Instead, I walk beside you as you learn how to carry what has changed. Together we create space for the full spectrum of the experience — sadness, anger, confusion, gratitude, even moments of unexpected peace.
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Through lived experience as a caregiver to my late partner, as well as years working with people at the end of life, I understand how grief lives in the body and in the quiet spaces of daily life. I understand the exhaustion, the questions, the strange disorientation of continuing to live when someone you love is gone. I understand relief that can accompany the end, and the guilt that can accompany the relief.
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Grief work is not about letting go of the soul that you lost.
It is about learning a new relationship with them.
You carry their stories.
Their influence.
Their laughter.
The ways they changed you.
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In time, many people find that the sharpness of grief softens into something quieter — a steady presence rather than a crashing wave. The love remains, but it becomes something you live with rather than something that overwhelms you.
To grieve is to continue loving someone whose physical presence has changed.
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Part of the work we do together is learning how to live in honour of that love — to let it shape how you move through the world, how you care for others, how you care for yourself.
They are not gone from your life.
They are carried forward in your heart.
And you do not have to learn how to carry them alone.