A little birdie came to visit me while I was hanging out solo in the desert. It quickly died in front of me. I have no idea why other than the obvious–I’m a death doula and it is my job make sure your exit is as peaceful as you would like it to be. Clearly I can’t get away from death, but can any of us really? When we are honest with ourselves, how many reminders do we need that life is fleeting?

The bird starkly reminded me how sometimes death comes without explanation, rhyme or reason. Like those whose lives are rocked by sudden deaths or accidents, or even a diagnosis that seems to come out of nowhere. The best that we can hope for is the reminder that life is precious. Here one minute, then gone the next.

Thank you little birdie. And, as always, thank you so much for giving me a minute of your life to think about the end of it. 💜🙏🏿

PS. I let the bird lay out for a little bit while I thanked it for its contribution (and made sure it was dead). I also asked it why it came but got no clear answers (if you have a suggestion or know what type of bird this is, bring it). Then I ceremoniously took its body into the hills, and buried it. No days off from death doula-ing apparently.

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