I’m an End-of-Life Doula and Companion Care provider based on Vancouver Island.
I believe some of life’s hardest conversations become a little less frightening when we’re given the space to have them honestly.
My work is about creating that space — offering compassionate, non-medical support, practical guidance and a steady presence for individuals and families navigating aging, caregiving, dying, death and grief.
I’m not here to tell you what this journey should look like. I’m here to walk beside you while you find your way through it.
My path to becoming an End-of-Life Doula wasn’t exactly a straight line — but looking back, I can see that the pieces have been coming together for a long time.
I lost my mom when I was younger, and like so many families experiencing death for the first time, we were navigating something we didn’t really know how to navigate. There were conversations I wish we had known to have, things I wish I had understood, and moments I wish had looked different.
That experience stayed with me.
Over the years, I went on to work alongside older adults and families in healthcare, long-term care, senior living and private companion care. Again and again, I found myself drawn to the deeply human parts of care — listening to people’s stories, building relationships with families, sitting with difficult emotions, and making sure people still felt like themselves when so much around them was changing.
One of the experiences that shaped me most was privately caring for someone living with Lewy body dementia and Parkinson’s. Over time, caregiving became something much deeper, and I eventually had the privilege of walking beside his family through the end of his life.
Being that close to dying changed the way I understood care.
I saw how much happens outside of the medical side of death. There are conversations that need space. Stories that deserve to be heard. Families who need someone to lean on. There can be fear and sadness, but there can also be laughter, connection, love and incredibly ordinary moments in the middle of something extraordinary.
And in many ways, it brought me back to losing my mom.
I couldn’t change what that experience looked like for my family, but I began to understand that I could help create something different for someone else. I could help people have the conversations I wish we had known to have. I could help families understand what may be coming, make space for what matters to them, and feel a little less alone while navigating something that can feel impossibly big.
Eventually, I realized that the work I had been drawn to throughout my life had a name.
This is where I’m meant to be.
Years of hand-on care
My background includes private companion care, long-term care, healthcare and senior living, supporting older adults and families through changing needs, dementia, caregiving and end of life.
Learning that supports the work
My training includes Health Care Assistant education at Vancouver Island University, specialized dementia-care training (Teepa Snow), and End-of-Life Doula education through Douglas College, with continued learning in death, dying, grief and advance care planning.
The part you can’t put on a certificate
I bring curiosity, honesty, humour and a calm presence to this work. I listen without judgement, respect that every person and family is different, and meet people where they are rather than where anyone thinks they should be.
Because there’s a lot of life happening around here, too.
Despite choosing work that involves talking about death quite a lot, I’m actually pretty obsessed with living.
I’m happiest near the ocean, exploring Vancouver Island, travelling somewhere new, or spending time with the people (and animals) I love. There’s a very good chance you’ll find me walking one of my dogs, attempting another sourdough recipe, planning my next adventure, or getting far too invested in a meaningful conversation.
I’m a Libra, a dog person, a little bit witchy, endlessly curious about people, and a firm believer that humour belongs in even the hardest spaces.
I believe grief and joy can exist at the same time. That talking about death can actually teach us a lot about living. That there is no single “right” way to die, grieve or say goodbye.
And that sometimes the most meaningful thing we can offer another person is simply our full attention.
If something you’ve read here feels like the kind of support you’ve been looking for, I’d love to hear from you.
You don’t need to know exactly what you need or have the right words to explain what’s happening. Tell me a little about where you are right now, and we can start there.
No pressure. No expectations. Just a conversation.