Dying Matters

05/27/2026

When a soul soaked in sadness
Finds the strength to approach you
They may need help
They may need advice,
But firstly,
They need tender hearted kindness.

They don't need you to stand in ridicule,
They need you to sit
With them in their suffering.

It doesn't require
That you fully understand.
It doesn't require
That you have a solution.
It just requires that you be there.

So, be there.
Be the gentle friend
Who has pulled up a chair,
To listen, to comfort, to love

That's all we need
Someone who shows up.
Someone to be warm
When the world's been cold.

-Liz Newman

05/25/2026

I wrote Walking Each Other Home because after 36 years as a nurse and my work as an end-of-life doula, I have seen how unprepared so many families feel when death enters the room.

It's not because they don’t love enough. It's because no one ever taught them how to have these conversations.

No one taught them how to ask the harder questions, how to talk about wishes, how to honor quality of life, or how to sit beside someone they love when there are no easy answers left.

This book is about dying, yes.

But even more than that, it is about love, caregiving, truth-telling, and the sacred responsibility of walking each other through the most tender passages of life.

If Walking Each Other Home has touched you, or if you know someone caring for a loved one, grieving a loss, working in hospice, or trying to make sense of end-of-life decisions, I hope you’ll share this book with them.

Sometimes the right book finds someone at exactly the right time.

Walking Each Other Home is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

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05/22/2026

This.

05/20/2026

I wanted to touch on a one of the most tender topics – Medical Aid in Dying (MAiD), because it lives right at the intersection of fear, love, suffering, control, and conscience.

Whether you feel curious, cautious, supportive, conflicted, or unsure...all of that belongs.

What Medical Aid in Dying is (and isn’t).

In places where it’s authorized, MAiD allows a terminally ill, mentally capable adult to request a prescription for medication they can choose to self-administer to bring about a peaceful death.

It is not the same as euthanasia (where someone else administers the medication). With MAiD, the person must be able to self-administer the medication.

While details differ by jurisdiction, most MAiD laws include safeguards such as:

Eligibility requirements (commonly: adult, terminal diagnosis with a prognosis of around 6 months, decision-making capacity, and the ability to self-administer).

Multiple requests (often an initial request, a second request after a waiting period, plus a written request).

Two clinicians involved to confirm the diagnosis, prognosis, capacity, and voluntariness (and to ensure the person knows all available options including hospice and palliative care).

And then comes the most important part: the medication is only an option. Some people request it and never take it. The value, for many, is simply knowing it’s there.

The practical side (what families don’t realize they’ll need).

If MAiD is something you’re considering (or supporting someone who is), these practical questions matter:
• Who will be present?
• Where will it happen?(home, facility, another setting allowed by law/policy)?
• What does the person want the hours and days beforehand to feel like?
• What support is in place for symptom management, anxiety, and fear? (Hospice/palliative care can be a part of this).
• How will the family be supported after this?

These aren’t just logistics – they are the scaffolding that holds dignity.

A lot of feelings come up around this subject. People fear suffering and loss of control. There are fears of being a burden. There is often conflicts with families because not everyone will agree on the decision. There is also anticipatory grief.

And finally, some will experience this as a way to align their death with their deepest values: autonomy, clarity, timing, or sacred choice. Others experience spiritual conflict asking: “Is this wrong?” “Will I be judged?”

Common fears (and what helps)

“What if I change my mind?”
You can. MAiD is voluntary at every step.

“What if I can’t go through with it?”
Then you don’t. Many people find comfort simply by having the option.

“What if my family thinks I’m choosing death over them?”
This is common. This is where clear, loving conversation matters most. “I love you. This isn’t about wanting to leave you. It’s about wanting my suffering to end in a way that matches my values.”

MAiD is not available in every state, but if you know someone who is thinking about this, I can offer a safe, non-judgmental space to talk about the emotional, practical, and spiritual layers of this through Tele-Doula services.

Note: MAiD laws and processes vary by location. This information is for educational purposes only and is not medical or legal advice. Please consult your medical team and local resources for guidance specific to your state.

05/10/2026

Mother’s Day is a beautiful day for many people, and I truly appreciate what it represents. I love seeing people honor their mothers, grandmothers, wives, daughters, and all the women who have loved, nurtured, and held families together.
But I also know this day is not easy for everyone.
For some of us, Mother’s Day carries a deep pain that doesn’t really go away. It may soften over time, but it still knows exactly where to find us.
I lost my mother when she was only 63 years old—far too young. There are still moments when I wish I could ask her a question, hear her voice, or just have more time with her. More ordinary days. More conversations. More of the things you don’t realize you’ll miss until they’re gone.
And then there’s the grief of losing my own son 13 years ago. A grief that changes everything. A grief that makes days like this complicated, tender, and sometimes nearly impossible to explain.
So while I honor Mother’s Day, I also want to make room for the truth that not everyone is celebrating today. Some are grieving their mothers. Some are grieving their children. Some are grieving relationships that were painful, absent, complicated, or unfinished. And some are simply trying to get through the day.
For me, Mother’s Day is a day I sometimes wish I could quietly skip over. Not because I don’t value motherhood, because I do. I know how sacred it is. I know what it means to love that deeply, and what it means to lose.
And still, through everything, I have my amazing daughter, whom I couldn't be more proud of. She is one of the greatest gifts in my life, and my love for her is full beyond anything I can imagine.
Maybe that is the reality for many of us today. It’s not just one thing. It’s love and loss, gratitude and grief, pride and longing— a full heart and a broken one, somehow existing side by side.
So today, I am holding space for all of it.
For those celebrating with joy, I hope your day is beautiful.
For those bearing grief, may you be kind to yourself.
And for those of us living somewhere in between, may we remember that love does not disappear just because the day is hard.

05/07/2026

I learned so much about organ donation and challenging conversations from Dr. Toby Campbell. Listen at eolupodcast.com or whenever you enjoy podcasts!

05/07/2026

When I began writing Walking Each Other Home, I thought I was writing a book about aspects of dying. But somewhere along the way, I realized death had been teaching me about living all along. About what matters and what really doesn’t. About the conversations we avoid, the love we assume people already know, and the truth we keep postponing for “someday.” Writing this book reminded me that mortality is not here to make us afraid. It is here to wake us up, soften us, and bring us back to what is real while we still have time.

is a compassionate and practical guide for anyone navigating the sacred passage of dying—whether for a loved one or themselves. Written by death doula and registered nurse Cathy Yuhas, this book offers a gentle invitation to explore what it means to die well, support someone at the end of li...

05/05/2026

Have you ever felt present but not fully seen? Maybe you are the one who listens, helps, notices, adjusts, and holds space for everyone else. Perhaps you've become so accustomed to not taking up too much room that you no longer expect to be deeply known. Sometimes, the first step is simply admitting it: I miss being seen. I miss being met. I miss feeling like my presence matters too.

Where in your life do you feel unseen, unheard, or quietly left out?

If you're having trouble answering that question, try asking:

* What do I wish someone would notice?
* What have I stopped saying because I assume it won't matter?
* What would honoring my own presence look like here?

05/01/2026

When was the last time you sat in silence long enough to notice what was actually going on inside of you?

Many of us live with constant input, noise, reaction, and then wonder why we feel disconnected. Maybe the question isn’t what should I do next, but what might I notice if I got still long enough to listen. Even 5 minutes of real quiet can start to reveal the truth.

Take 5 minutes with no music, no scrolling, and no multitasking, and ask yourself:

*What is the first thing that comes up when everything is quiet?
*What have I been too busy to feel?
*What is trying to get my attention?

04/27/2026

At the end of life, comfort matters.
But so do dignity, clarity, preparation, truth, laughter, touch, forgiveness, family, and goodbye.

I help make space for all of it.

04/26/2026

I often feel shy about self-promotion, but I guess no one will know about it until I tell them, so here’s a review of my book. If you are dealing with a serious illness, are the adult child of an aging parent, or are among those who like to be prepared for the future, this book is for you!